Cold As Ice (16 page)

“Come on, babe. I'll take you home,” Jeremy says, pulling me up from my bent-over stance outside the door. Students walking by during the lunch hour look at me, pointing in disgust, and I can't say that I blame them. I know the rumors of me being pregnant or having a hangover will be flying around campus in no time.

“I'm sorry about that,” I say, looking at the mess I've made. The whole group is watching from inside, but it's Misty's eyes I see. She doesn't look as happy as she did when I first took the doughnut. Maybe me getting ill was a good thing. I'll have to look up what I can in my mom's limited spirit notebook, but right now, I just want to get out of here, and it looks like my man is going to make my final birthday wish come true. I can't afford to be down for too long. With my exams, the speech, my spirit work, and money to be made, I don't have any time to lose. And more than that, I'm not letting Misty make me sick again. Like Mama says, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, your ass is mine.

“H
ere, have some tea,” Maman says to me, passing me the delicate china cup and saucer. Bringing the spicy liquid to my lips, I try to take a sip, but the hot sting stops me before I can get a good taste.

“Ouch!” I say, backing away from our teatime.

“Careful not to burn yourself, Jayd,” Maman says. She is dressed in delicate lace clothing that is almost completely translucent in the light, as is the rest of her body. We are in the same dark room in which I wrote in the spirit book and promptly fell on my behind when leaving another dream. But instead of sitting at the desk, we are seated on a fainting couch with a small coffee table in front of us. “Here, like this,” she says, lifting the precious china teacup from the silver tray and raising it in demonstration. Pursing her lips carefully against the gold-trimmed edge, she quietly blows the top of the cup before sipping, instantly turning it into iced tea with her cool breath. “See, Jayd. If you take your time, you won't get hurt.” I have a feeling she's talking about more than the drink I'm holding.

“Thank you, Maman.” I follow Maman's example, which has the same effect on my portion. She's right: now that it's cooled off, it doesn't hurt at all.

“A lady always takes her time in every situation,” Maman says, returning her cup to the tray and pouring another serving. “The tea will be just as sweet if you sip it slowly.” She then takes one teaspoon of honey from the bowl next to the teapot, slowly stirring the thick gold sweetener until it completely immerses itself in the brown elixir. I'm still getting used to the first cup. Even with the cooler temperature, it's full of bitter roots and spicy powders that make me gag. How Maman's taking cupfuls to the head is beyond me. “The tea will be even sweeter if you slow down, because you can actually savor the entire body, not just the flavor, which makes the benefits last longer,” she says, tasting it again as if for the first time.

“Atchoo!” I sneeze, wasting the cold liquid all over the couch and Maman's dress, but she doesn't react. Instead she continues drinking her tonic while I take one of the cloth napkins on the coffee table and pat her down.

“Bless you, my child,” Maman says, touching my left hand with her right, stopping my movement. “Bless you.” I look up at a smiling Maman, her jade eyes glowing. Maman's long gray hair seems to move like snakes around her neck, slithering slowly from her body to mine.

“Maman,” I plead. I've always been afraid of snakes, like most sane people I know. The cold-blooded reptiles slide up my arm and merge with my hair, which is hanging loosely around my shoulders. By the time they reach my scalp, I am no longer afraid. It feels kind of good to have Maman's hair in mine. The snakes massage my temples and then the rest of my head, soothing away my congestion with each vibration. What the hell was in that tea?

“Jayd, phone,” Jeremy says, shaking me awake. I open my eyes, searching for the small cell near my head, half expecting snakes to grab it for me.

“
You better come correct how you approaching me. Recognize a real woman
,” Keri Hilson sings, announcing the end of my dream and the last day of the school week, hallelujah. I'm feeling much better after staying home from school yesterday. I took the opportunity to look through my mom's spirit notes and found out that any time she would catch a cold is more than likely because she invaded a sick person's mind. There was also one story about how Esmeralda gave her a head cold with one look. I have a feeling that's exactly what Misty did, thanks to her godmother's old tricks.

I had to call Mama and tell her I wouldn't be able to make it to work yesterday, and of course she immediately could tell something was wrong. She gave me a special tea to brew, and it cleared most of my congestion and nausea right up. No one can match her hot toddies. It also gave me more vivid dreams than usual, like the one I just woke up from about Maman. Thankfully, there were no snakes in Mama's recipe. I even gave Jeremy a little bit just in case my virus was contagious. Even with my runny nose, Jeremy was still all over me, and I didn't mind one bit, once I felt better. Since my ugly episode at school on Wednesday, Jeremy hasn't left my side, making me soup, taking my temperature—the whole nine yards. Even if he never told me he loves me, I would definitely know it from Jeremy's actions. The boy is sprung, and I'm bouncing right along with him.

I don't know exactly what time Jeremy and I finally passed out, but we make great study partners. I still can't believe he stayed up all night with me, twice in a row. He also helped me make flash cards and then quizzed me with them. I'm going to be so ready for my Spanish and economics AP exams, but English is another story. It's been nice spending so much time with Jeremy. He's been spoiling me since I moved to Inglewood. If I knew life could be this good with a boyfriend, I would've moved to my mom's a long time ago.

“Aren't you glad you took a night off from the study group?” Jeremy asks, kissing my eyebrows and then my cheeks. We both have morning breath but could not care less. I snatch up my phone and silence the ringing alarm. We both had better get going before we're late for school. I already took yesterday off, per Mama's request after I told her about the instant coldlike symptoms due to my encounter with Misty on Wednesday and the mysterious doughnuts she brought to the meeting. Because of Mama's prescription, I feel much better, but still not one hundred percent.

“Yes, and in more ways than one,” I say, rising from our makeshift cot on the living room floor. My mom's couch can fit only me comfortably. Sometimes I need space, especially with the baked beans I finished off from the leftovers last night. A sistah's only human. “All that expensive tea is putting a damper on my funds.” I need to go to the market today and stock up the refrigerator for next week. I never knew it was so expensive to feed myself for every single meal, not that I have much variety in my diet these days. Unlike Mama, I have yet to master the art of cooking various meals. It will be mostly grilled cheese and soup for me from now on.

“Do you need some cash?” Jeremy asks, following me up. “I can spot you until your next pay day.” I need one of those and bad. I've been taking way too much time off work at Netta's and with my own clients. It's hurting my pockets and their heads. I saw Shawntrese yesterday, and she was sporting a cap for the third day in a row. I've got to get back on my game. I'm ultimately hurting myself, and that definitely won't make me feel any better.

“You're sweet, baby, but I'll be okay.” Jeremy can't help wanting to bail me out, and I'm learning to appreciate it. Against my wishes, he reaches for his wallet and pulls out a twenty.

“Here. This should cover my munchies for the last two nights and a down payment for next time.” Before I can say anything else, he kisses me, silencing me for the moment.

“I'd better get going,” he says, kissing me one more time on the nose before putting on his worn tan Birkenstocks and claiming his hoodie from the coatrack. “Next time I'll bring a change of clothes.”

“Okay,” I say, following Jeremy to the door. He bends down and kisses me on the forehead, hugging me tightly.

“See you at school,” Jeremy says, unlocking the front door and letting himself out. After he's gone, I lie back down for a moment. I can't believe I'm regularly spending the night with a boy other than Rah. Both dudes have never pressured me about having sex, and for that I'm grateful. Just being with Jeremy makes me happier than I've been in a long, long time. And the fact that he's so helpful is such a bonus. I'd better count my blessings now before they vanish into thin air like everything else that brings me joy. Now it's time to face my Friday and get to South Bay High before the time slips away, too.

 

The morning chill is more pronounced from Inglewood to Redondo Beach than from Compton because the drive to school is along the coast, going through El Segundo, Manhattan Beach, and Hermosa Beach, finally making it down Pacific Coast Highway and into Redondo. It would be a nice view this morning if the fog weren't so thick. Today I'm taking my time getting to campus. The last time I arrived early, I ran into Misty, and I definitely don't want to make that mistake again. My immune system can't take another dose of her poison just yet. Because of the heffa, my birthday took a foul turn, but when I make a full recovery, Misty's first on my shit list. Second is Rah, who didn't even call to wish me happy birthday, but I say “whatever” to his trifling ass, too. In order to get through these next few weeks, I'm going to pretend like all my haters are invisible; I've got too much to do to let their bull keep me down.

Even though it's Friday, we still have a study session this evening, and I haven't even begun writing my speech for Sunday's sermon. I have to work at Netta's after school, so I'll make it only to the tail end of the session—but I will make it, unlike last night. Jeremy and I got a lot of studying done, but we also played, which I know will not be the case at Charlotte's house. There's nothing fun about that girl, and because of her uptight ass, I must say I'm impressed with my academic prowess since joining the group. I can't wait to tell Ms. Toni about my progress and to see about checking out another book from her personal library for the break next week. But before I can make it down the main hall to see if my school mama's in her office, I notice my crew by Mickey's locker, and they don't look like they're talking about the weather.

“What's up?” I ask Chance. Nellie shakes her head, indicating that this isn't the time for small talk. Ever since Nigel found out that Mickey had another man on the side besides her ex-man before she got pregnant, his temper has been a bit sensitive, to say the least. I guess Nigel's ego can't handle being one of two men Mickey was fooling around with before her man got locked up. What a mess.

“Mickey, what the hell is this all about?” Nigel asks, waving an envelope in the air.

“It's nothing, Nigel. Give it back to me,” Mickey says, reaching for the letter, but it's too late. Nigel notices the numbers on the envelope and knows it's from an inmate at a penitentiary, even if he doesn't recognize the name in front of them. “You and your ex-man are pen pals now, Mickey? After all that nigga did?”

“It's not like that,” she says, reaching for the paper, but, again, it's no use. Her swollen belly won't let her move too quickly these days. Nigel rips the letter out of its envelope and quickly reads part of it.

“Really? Then what is it like, because it sounds like he's planning a future with you and your baby, which apparently isn't his either? How many niggas have you been with in the past six months, huh, Mickey?” We all stop and stare at Nigel, who has lost all remnants of any type of control. I wish I could help cool him off before he says something he will regret, but we're past that point.

“Come on, man. Back off,” Chance says, putting his left hand on Nigel's shoulder, but I doubt Nigel can feel a thing. He's too pumped up off anger to listen to reason. I'd better send Rah a text that his boy's about to blow. He'll be up here in less than the twenty minutes it normally takes to get from his school to ours. Westingle High is near LAX, and Rah knows several ways to get to and from there and here. One day when we're speaking again I'm going to have him give me directions because I know of only one route other than taking the freeway, which is rarely an option because there's always traffic on the 405.

“He almost shot me, Mickey,” Nigel says, almost in tears. “And he killed Tre. I went to school with that nigga and now he's dead.” Mickey looks at us, horrified at the embarrassing truth. “How could you betray me like that?” Maybe now she'll finally learn her lesson.

“Nigel, I'm sorry,” Mickey says, trying to wipe the saltwater flowing freely from Nigel's face with her hands, but he grabs them both, stopping her in midair.

“Don't ever touch me again. I'm through with you until you have a paternity test,” Nigel says, forcing her hands down. “My mother was right about you,” he adds as tears stream down Mickey's face, causing her MAC foundation to smear. “You're a straight-up gold-digging ho.”

“Nigel, no! Please!” Mickey screams after him, but he's already out of the main hall and on his way to fourth period like the rest of us should be. The other students stare at a hysterical Mickey as she falls into Nellie's arms. Misty and KJ catch the end of the argument but see enough to make them smile.

“He just needs some air,” Nellie says, holding our girl. I want to help, but Mickey's so hurt she'll need someone to blame, and I'm already carrying enough of her misplaced anger. I did my part by alerting Rah, who I know is already on his way. There's nothing more I can do for my girl or her baby, who is my main concern. I hope they can fix this mess, but it doesn't look good from where I or the other fifty or so witnesses are standing.

“We'd better get to class,” Chance says, noticing the hall emptying quickly, and he's right. There's nothing more to see here. We're all on our way to fourth period, but I hope this doesn't continue in class. It might be speech and debate, but Mickey's sex life is not a topic for public discussion.

 

“Are we ready for our exam on the basic rules of forensic debate and engaging your opponent?” Mr. Adewale asks the class as he passes out our test sheets, reminding me of our study session tonight. I can't believe the Advanced Placement exams are less than a month away. I feel better about my progress, but I'm nowhere near ready.

“Ah, Mr. Adewale—I thought we'd get a break this week,” Del says from the back of the classroom where he and the rest of the South Central members congregate. Emilio passes out the rest of the sheets while Mr. A goes back to his desk to set the timer, ignoring the rude outburst. We get only forty minutes to finish and then will spend the last ten minutes of the class period grading our tests.