Caught Up (7 page)

His body is hot against mine, causing a deep burning wave of heat to course through me. All I know is, all of this deep kissing is going to lead somewhere way beyond our parted lips and dancing tongues if I don't get a hold of my senses and move his hands from up under my shirt, from off my breasts.

This isn't the first time I'm kissing a guy. And it isn't the first time anyone's touched my breasts, but it is the first time I feel like I'm riding a waterslide.

I'm wet, like a waterfall.

“O
hmygod, Kennedy!” Hope exclaims, covering her mouth in shock. Her eyebrows shoot up. “You little tramp! I can't believe you lied to your mother, then went to that boy's house and made out with him.”

“I went to the movies first, before making out with him,” I say jokingly.

“Well, how was it?”

“What, the movie?”

“No, silly.” She playfully swats a hand at me. “Making out with him?”

“See, if I tell you, I might have to kill you,” I say, laughing.

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, then. Be like that. Selfish.”

I laugh.

I close my eyes, reliving the whole night. How he kissed me on my neck. Dipped his tongue into my mouth. And how I had to try to keep up with him, losing my breath in his warm kisses.

“Dag, it was like that?” she asks, laughing.

I nod. “It was heaven.”

She shakes her head. “I can't believe you.”

I feign ignorance. “What? What can't you believe?”

“This new you; sneaking over to some boy's house and lying to your mother. I never knew you had it in you.”

“It's not that serious. It's not like I went out and committed a crime or something. All I did is make out with a boy.”

“Yeah. A boy who you know your parents would disapprove of if they ever found out.”

I grin. “And that's what makes it so much more exciting. Knowing my parents would have a fit.”

She shakes her head. “I don't know, Kennedy. Seems so not worth all the trouble you could get in if you ever got caught. I mean, lying to your mom. That's so not cool. What if she found out you were lying to her?”

I shrug. “She won't.” She wants to know if I've lied before to my mom in order to sneak off with a boy. I tell her no. Tell her that I've never had any reason to because I'd always done what is expeted of me by my parents.

“So why the change now?”

“I don't know. It's not like I intentionally set out to lie to her. I was on the phone talking to him and he was talking all low and sexy, telling me how much he wanted to hang out with me. I got caught up in the moment. Anyway, I wanted to see him, too.”

“You know, Kennedy. Nothing good is going to come out of you being deceitful. One day it's all going to come out, then what?”

I look at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

She gives me a funny look. “Why do you like boys like that?”

“Like what?”

She huffs. “You know, ruffians. Thugs.”

“I don't know. They're interesting and exciting.”

“They're nothing but trouble.”

I furrow my brows. “That's so not true, Hope. All that is is a negative stereotype. All guys who wear sagging pants and from urban areas aren't bad news. A lot of them are simply misunderstood.”

She rolls her eyes, waving me on. “Oh, please, Kennedy. All they do is run around drinking and smoking and having wild, nasty sex and getting a bunch of girls pregnant and spreading around diseases.”

I blink. “Ohmygod, Hope! You have got to be kidding me. I can't believe what's just come out of your mouth. You can not possibly believe what you've said.”

She makes a face. “Well, it's true. So before you get on your soapbox, spare me the song and dance about the plight and misfortunes of the boys in the hood. Their apathy and disregard for the world around them is nothing but an excuse for them to go out and sell drugs and tear down their communities, killing and robbing each other, instead of staying in school, getting an education, and doing something positive and constructive with their lives.”

“It's not always that cut and dried,” I say, feeling a headache pushing its way to the center of my forehead.

She snorts. “I don't see why it's not. You either want to do right, or you don't. No one forces them to do what they do. It's a choice. So whatever negative light is being shone on them is by their own doing.”

“That's so not fair. How can you say that? You don't know what it's like to walk in their shoes. Many who live in the hood want out. They want to do what's right, but when they aren't given the tools or allowed access to resources that can help them, then they start to feel hopeless and helpless.”

She sucks her teeth. “So that makes it right?”

I shake my head. “No. That makes it real. You know like I do that the system is designed to see people fail, especially young black men. So you shouldn't be so quick to judge.”

“Okay, so maybe I shouldn't judge. And maybe you're right. But I'll say this, then I'm going to let it go. They're all damaged if you ask me. And before long, if you choose to keep chasing behind boys like that, you'll end up damaged, too.”

I am stunned, speechless.

“S
o why do they call you Blaze?” I ask Hazel Eyes two days later. We've been on Skype for the last twenty minutes. There's something about him I like. I know, I know. At first I thought it wasn't going to work out. But after our movie date and spending time with him alone at his house, he's really not all that bad. And, besides, he's really, really nice to look at.

Eye candy. Yeah, that's what they call guys who look like him.

He lights his second blunt, taking two deep pulls then holding it in his lungs.

“Don't you think that maybe you smoke too much?”

He coughs. “Nah, not like I used to. I cut back.”

“You
cut back
?” I ask, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah. I used to burn like nine, ten blunts a day.”

I stare at him through the screen incredulously. “Are you for real? Even during the school year?”

“No doubt. Weed helped me concentrate better. I got most of my A's when I was high, yo. Word is bond. I'd smoke a blunt before school, then another one for lunch. Then soon as two forty-five hit and dat bell rang, I'd be out da door sparking up wit' my boyz until it was time to take it down.”

“So, is that why they call you
Blaze
? Because of all the marijuana you smoke?”

He shifts his eyes from my inquiring gaze. “Yeah, sumthin' like dat. So you wanna catch another movie tomorrow night?”

I chuckle. “Hey-hey, not so fast. Don't even try to change the subject. Not until you tell me what ‘something like that' means
.”

He brings his face close to his computer screen, and blows smoke at me. “See. If I tell you, I'ma have ta kidnap you.” He laughs and coughs at the same time.

I tsk him. “Just tell me, please.”

He sighs. “Yo, you really wanna know?”

I nod. “I wouldn't have asked if I didn't.”

He sighs again. “When I was like eight I found my older brother's stash . . .”

“Oh, you have an older brother? How old is he? What kind of stash?”

He shakes his head. “Chill, chill. You want me to tell you da story or not?”

I nod.

“A'ight then. My brother, Brent, is twenty-three. Anyway, I found his stash of weed in a Timberland box under his bed. I remember watching him roll up and seein' him smoke and I thought it was cool. So dis one night when he was out doin' him, I snuck in his room wit' two of my friendz at da time. He had like six blunts already rolled 'n' ready to burn so I took one 'n' lit it. Me 'n' my boyz started smokin' it like we knew what we was doin' but we ain't know jack; feel me?”

I nod. “So what happened?”

Blaze looks off for a split second, then lands his gaze back on me. “We heard someone comin' 'n' got spooked. I tossed all da blunts 'n' da lighter back into the box 'n' pushed it back under his bed, then me 'n' my friendz dipped outta his room before we got caught. My moms woulda beat me if she caught me smokin'.” He shakes his head. “Later dat night, I went to bed, then the next thing I know my moms is bargin' in my room shakin' me 'n' screamin' for me to get up 'cause there's a fire.”

I gasp. “Ohmygod! Did your house burn down?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. It was just a lotta smoke. I mean, it did burn through the box 'n' my brother's mattress got scorched, but we ain't lose e'erything. My moms was just happy no one got hurt 'n' dat our crib didn't burn down to da ground.”

“Y'all were real lucky,” I say sincerely.

“True.”

“So did they know how his bed caught fire?”

“Not at first. But then dem fire marshall cats came 'n' tol' my moms what caused it. She blacked on my brother for havin' dat stuff in her house.”

“Did she put him out?”

“Nah. She just made him give her money for da damages. And started chargin' him rent to live wit' us. Soon as she spun off, he started spazzin' on me 'n' yoked me up for goin' into his ish. He knew da only way da fire coulda popped off da way it did is if someone was in his room messin' wit' his stash. Man, dude tried to beat da crap outta me. After dat he got a lock on his door, then started callin' me Blaze.”

“Wow.”

He licks his lips. “Now, what about dat movie?”

I grin. “Tell me your real name, and it's a yes.”

He shakes his head. “See, why you gotta know all dat? It's Blaze.”

“Yeah, okay. And my name's Tinkerbell from
Once Upon a Time
.”

“Hahahaha. Well, once upon a time, there was dis dude named Blaze who had another name. Nice to meet you, Tinker. Now come ring my bell.”

I join in his laughter. “You're so silly.”

Although he doesn't tell me his real name, he does share with me that his mother's a single mom. That his dad was killed in car crash when he was six. And his brother's in prison for three years for selling drugs.

I also learn that he's going into his senior year. And that he plays basketball for his high school. That he's their star point guard. And he plans to go away to college.

I'm impressed.

“Where do plan on attending?” I ask, genuinely interested.

“I don't know. NYU, Georgetown, and Duke universities want me real bad.”

Oh, wow,” I say, excitedly. “That's great! Which one will you choose?”

He shrugs. “I don't know. My mom wants me to go get out of Jersey. But I ain't really tryna leave her, feel me?”

“Yeah. But where would you like to go if you had a choice?”

He thinks for a moment then says, “On some real, I'd like to go to either Howard, Hampton, Fisk, or North Carolina A & T University.”

I give him a quizzical look. “Really? Wow. Why those schools? I mean, I know they're historically black universities and all, but why them when Georgetown, NYU, and Duke already have their eyes on you—why wouldn't you go to one of them? They're really good schools.”

He gives me a funny look. “Why not those schools? They're just as good as Georgetown, Duke, NYU, Princeton, Harvard, Yale, or any other prestigious Ivy League school, feel me? Besides, they're listed among Forbes's top colleges and universities to attend.”

“Forbes?” I say. “What you know about Forbes?”

“See,” he says, smirking. “I know more than you think, yo. Don't sleep on ya future man, yo.”

I laugh. “Oh, is that what you're going to be, my man?”

“Yeah. One day.”

I raise a brow. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah. When you ready for me.”

“Ohmygod! You are so full of yourself. What makes you
think
I'm not ready for you?”

“Don't worry about all dat. I can tell.”

I tsk. “
Annnny
way, moving on. Sounds like you have a promising future ahead of you.”

“True indeed. Every black boy from da hood ain't a dropout, or out slingin' packs, yo. Yeah, I dress hood 'n' I talk dat talk, but I ain't a derelict or destined for a prison cell.”

I smile at him. “I know not to judge a book by its cover.”

“Exactly. Most of us got dreams, feel me?”

I nod.

“I bet you thought I was just some hood nucca wit' nothin' goin' for himself, didn't you?”

“No. I didn't think that.”

He laughs. “C'mon. Don't front. Yes, you did.”

“Honestly. I didn't.”

He gives me a “yeah right” look.

“Ohmygod! I'm serious. I really didn't know what to think when I first saw you.”

“Yeah, right. You know you thought I looked good, yo. I saw you eyein' my swag.”

I feign insult. “O-M-G! I was not eyeing your swag.” I bust out laughing. “Okay, okay. Maybe I was; just a little.”

“Hahaha. Yeah, that's what I thought.” He pauses, moving his face up into his computer screen. “I'm sayin', though. I wanna see you, yo.”

I smile. “I want to see you, too.”

He pulls in his bottom lip. “A'ight then. So what's good?”

I glance at the time in the upper right corner of my MacBook. It's almost one in the morning. Already
waaaay
past my curfew. “I can't,” I say. “My mom will kill me.”

“Oh, a'ight, it's cool,” he says without even trying to convince me to come out.

I won't pretend that I'm not a little taken aback for some reason that he isn't pressing me to sneak out to see him. I guess I kind of wanted him to. So, okay, okay, I'm disappointed.

“Well, alright then. I guess I'll go to sleep.”

He laughs. “What, you want me to tell you to sneak outta ya crib to come chill wit' me?”

“No,” I lie.

He keeps laughing. “Yeah, a'ight. Whatever you say, ma. But don't get it twisted, yo. I wanna def chill wit' you again. But I ain't tryna have you do nothin' you don't already do. Good girls don't sneak outta dey parents' crib. Bad girls do.”