Cold As Ice (9 page)

After I shower and dress, I replace my belongings in Daddy's closet, noticing he's not in his bed. I guess after all the excitement he couldn't go back to sleep. There's no time for cereal, so a banana from the fruit bowl will have to do.

“Girl, what's gotten into you this morning?” Daddy asks as I try to make my way out the kitchen door; he walks in from outside with a Bible in his hands.

“I don't know, Daddy. I'm just frustrated and tired, I guess,” I say, leaning against the open door. I feel more tired than when I woke up this morning.

“I hope you think carefully about the type of young woman you want to become. It starts now, and so far, so good until this morning,” Daddy says, lifting my chin with his free hand and kissing me softly on the forehead. “Think carefully about what you want to say in front of the church on Easter Sunday.”

“You still want me to speak?” I ask, surprised he's not rebuking me for mouthing off this morning.

“Of course I do, Tweet—now more than ever,” Daddy says, pulling a ten-dollar bill out of the leather-bound book and handing it to me. “Gas.” I love my granddaddy, and he's a sweet man. I know he and Mama have their fair share of problems, but his being a good provider isn't one of them.

“Thank you, Daddy. I'll talk to you later,” I say, walking out the door and closing it behind me.

“I look forward to it. Be careful,” Daddy says through the closed door. I'm glad he's not holding my words against me. That's one good thing about family: You can show your ass, and they'll still love you. Lexi, Mama's loyal pet, is asleep in her usual spot at the bottom of the steps. What a life this dog has.

When I get to the car, I see Bryan's not there yet. He's got the two minutes it takes for my mom's Mazda to warm up before I leave him wherever the hell he is. I walk across the street and open my ride, ready to roll. But before I can get in the car, I see Misty leaving Esmeralda's house. I still can't get over the fact that she and her mom stay with their evil godmother from time to time. Since Misty's grandmother died, she and her mom have had a pretty rough time, and as high as the cost of living is in Los Angeles, I'm sure they'll be struggling for a while. I kind of feel sorry for her, but having too much sympathy for Misty is dangerous for me.

“Good morning, Jayd,” Misty says, switching her wide hips down the porch steps and closing the wrought-iron gate behind her. We wouldn't want the cats, birds, hamsters, chickens, and various other animals that call that condemned porch of Esmeralda's home to escape.

“Misty,” I reply. It's hard to be polite to someone who tried to steal my dreams from me, which reminds me I need to grill her real quick about what she remembers from that unspeakable experience. “You'd think after you got your ass spiritually kicked, you'd be a little nicer to me, but I guess not, huh?” I ask, now that she's only a few feet away from me across the street. Misty better be careful on her way to school because in that outfit she could be mistaken for a hooker.

“Whatever, Jayd. That was one battle, but the war is still on, in case you haven't noticed.” Misty's got a little too much attitude for me this morning. Whatever she, her mama, and Esmeralda are doing over there has given Misty a new confidence I don't like. Too bad Misty uses her powers for evil, even before she started wearing her blue contact lenses. And like Nellie's blond weave, the shit just looks wrong.

“What's that supposed to mean?” I ask my nemesis, who looks quite fierce in her tight-fitting jean dress and black heels. She doesn't have a sweater on with those short sleeves and should be cold, but maybe evil never chills. If I didn't have on my pretty pink North Face jacket Jeremy bought me for Christmas, I'd be an icicle by now.

“You'll see, Jayd. You'll see,” Misty says, turning on her heel and walking down the street toward Greenleaf, one of my alternate bus routes to Redondo Beach. I wonder why KJ didn't give her a ride to school. Something about Misty is bothering me more than usual, but I'll have to figure out that messy mystery later. I open the driver's door and place my backpack and purse in the backseat before sitting down and starting the car. I hope Bryan heard me, because I'm ready to roll.

“Have fun walking to the bus stop in those heels!” I yell after Misty. I've got to give it to the girl—she can strut. She can also be very vulgar with her hand gestures, but she doesn't scare me. I've already whipped her ass once, and as long as I've got my ancestors by my side, I can do it again if need be.

“Jayd, you ready?” Bryan asks, getting into the car, visibly relaxed from his usual morning spliff and completely unaware of the drama in my world. If we had time to talk this morning, I would spill my guts to my favorite uncle. But Bryan and I both have work to do and need to move fast if we're going to get anything done today.

I
don't even remember how I drove the forty-five minutes it takes me to get from Compton to Redondo Beach this morning in less than forty, but I'm here and ready to get on with my day. I wish I could call my mom from mind to mind like she does me, but I'll have to settle for using my cell later. It's not fair that her powers work in only one direction. Had my mom appreciated her powers when she was my age, there's no telling how dope her shit would have been. Now her gift of sight works to get into only my head, no one else's. I sure could use my mom's help this morning, but it'll have to wait until I see her tonight, if she comes home before going to her boyfriend's apartment for the weekend. She's a professional at arguing with her mother and eventually gets over it, whereas I, on the other hand, always feel bad after having a disagreement with Mama.

Mr. Adewale could tell something was up with me in first period. I wanted to talk to him about my issues, but because he has such a profound respect for Mama and our lineage, I doubt he'll take my side. What am I thinking, leaving Mama's house? But if I don't do something fast, I'm in danger of not passing my AP exams, and I'll be damned if I give Mrs. Bennett the satisfaction of seeing me fail. Besides, I've worked my ass off for two years on the AP track and deserve to study for my exams in peace.

The only good thing about this freaky Friday is that my mom's powers have been off the chain. The people I come into contact with all let me inside their minds with no idea of what I'm doing, and I can't help it—I can hear everything they're thinking. It's like verbal diarrhea in my head. And the fact that some of it is audible doesn't help keep the noise down, but it did help me chill out Nellie and Mickey for the time being. My mom's persuasive techniques can cool almost any situation and turn it to her advantage, I see. I've decided not to tell Mama or my mom about my newfound sight. I'm not ready to give up this power just yet.

“Hey, girl,” Mickey says as she and Nellie approach my locker. They've been texting me all day about the baby shower this weekend, and I'm not any more excited about it than I was last week or the week before. I'll just be glad when it's all over. Mickey's still sour about Mrs. Esop inviting me to become a debutante, but I think Nigel has helped calm her down about the entire situation, especially since I agreed only for Mickey's sake. And Nellie hasn't said a word about dinner at Chance's house earlier this week. I heard what they wanted to say to me before I mentally resolved their issues during the pass between first and second period, and I am grateful I could squash that girl fight before it surfaced.

“Hey,” I say unenthusiastically. Reid and Laura are passing out fliers for some Associated Student Body event I could not care less about. Nellie and her platinum hair are right on the back of the bandwagon with them. She tries to hand me a yellow paper, and I ignore the gesture. The last thing I need is another piece of trash in my locker. I think the environmental club should set up an official tribunal and put ASB on trial for unnecessarily killing trees to advertise their useless bull.

“What's got your panties all up in a bunch?” Nellie asks, reading the sour expression written all over my face while placing the paper back in the pile she's carrying. This morning's battle—not to mention the plastic-coated couch—left me feeling twisted.

“Just shit,” I say, not wanting to relive the drama. “What's up with you?”

“Oh, bitch, you have to see the outfit I picked out for the shower. It's too cute.” There Nellie goes with that word again. I guess Mickey's resolved not to fight it any further, but I'm denouncing the apparent brainwashing of which our girl's bleached hair is reflective.

“Nellie, I know you know my name,” I say, slamming my locker door shut and facing the two of them while the rest of the crowded hall buzzes around us. I'm in no mood for her bougie ways.

“Bitch, please,” Nellie says, not fully feeling my rage. “It's just a word, like I said before. You're going to be using it before you know it.” She and Mickey lead us down the hall, but I'm stuck on Nellie's blatant disregard for my feelings. Has she completely lost her mind?

“All I know is if you call me that again, you better mean it and be ready to fight like a bitch.” I know that was a bit harsh, but I've already told Nellie not to refer to me like that. There are so many other titles she could have chosen. Why that one stuck is a mystery to me. But who knows what Nellie's ever thinking. It's just like her and this blond phase. I can't wait to get my hands in her head and bring my girl back to center. I think she's more lost than I am right now, but she's afraid to admit it. If I weren't rushing to get to government class, I'd take the time to school Nellie.

“Jayd, calm down,” Mickey says between bites of her Nacho Cheese Doritos. “We'll see you at lunch.”

“No, you won't, because I have to study.” When we cross the threshold leading from one opening in the main hall to the history hall, I can see Jeremy leaning up against the wall outside our third-period classroom. Noticing us walk in, Jeremy smiles my way, and I return the favor. He's exactly what I need to focus on for the rest of the day.

“What about at basketball practice this afternoon? We'll be there waiting for Nigel to get out.” I wonder if Nellie still knows she sounds like one of Nigel's groupies instead of his baby-mama's best friend?

“Yeah, I guess so, but I don't have much time. I have to go to work,” I say, reluctantly surrendering to my friends' collective will. The tension will be thick at work this afternoon, but at least it should be full of clients. That way, Mama and I can avoid each other and not get into it at the shop.

“Later, Jayd,” Mickey and Nellie say, turning the corner at the end of the hall and leaving me to my man and our class. We'll see each other in speech and debate next period, where I'm sure the all-about-baby talk will continue. As Jeremy opens his arms for me to fall into his energetic embrace, I feel more grateful than ever to have him in my life. Where there's Jeremy, there's rational behavior. Maybe he can teach me how to change up my stylo and be as laid-back as he always seems to be, because this shit I'm dealing with is getting old, for real.

 

The rest of the school day was productive and just the distraction I needed from my personal bull. I left a message for my mom, giving her the full rundown of what happened with Mama and will fill in the rest of the details tonight. There was no dressing out in my weight-lifting class today, so I got to sit in the gym with my girls and watch the boys prep for the basketball game tonight as planned. I miss hanging out with my friends. All I ever seem to do is work, work, work, and the people I'm working with don't seem to appreciate my presence anymore. Ironically, I feel the same neglect in my current conversation with Nellie.

“Okay, so this is the shirt. I figured we'd go with a bright yellow because it's spring and it's a girl. It also sets off the yellow sparkles in the House of Deréon jeans we'll be wearing,” she says, describing every detail of her outfit for the party on Sunday like she's going to be on the red carpet. Nellie has explained in full detail the importance of being both the hostesses and the godmothers at this baby shower, and the outfits must live up to our roles. She's also suggesting that we wear the same damn thing. What did they use in that hair dye?

“I like the gear, but I think we'll be all right if we don't match,” I say, watching KJ, Nigel, Del, Money, Chance, and the opposing team smash each other on the court. They look ready to beat whichever team they're facing tonight.

“I wouldn't lie to you. It's how all the celebrity showers are being done now, and Nigel and Mickey's baby deserves the same thing. After all, Nigel's going to the NFL right out of college, so he's already a star.” Mickey beams with pride as she watches her man hustle down the court. Nigel's dad wants him to focus on his basketball skills because he retired from the NBA. But Nigel lives for football season. “Bible, Jayd.” And if Nellie says that Kardashian phrase to me one more time, I'm going to pick another good book out of my backpack to throw at her. But before I can reach complete annoyance with my girl, Rah rolls into the parking lot next to the gym. Damn. I should've known Rah would be here to see Nigel before the game tonight.

“Uh-oh,” Mickey says, acknowledging Rah get out of his Acura and walk into the gymnasium. He spots us sitting on the sidelines and heads over.

“What's up, ladies?” Rah says. Mickey and Nellie say hey and continue watching the game. “Jayd, can I holla at you outside for a minute? I want to apologize for the way I acted last Sunday.”

“Is that even possible?” I ask, rising from the bleacher and following him outside. It's been overcast all day, threatening rain, but none has fallen. I hope it doesn't start when I get on the road in a few minutes. I hate driving in the rain.

“Jayd, come on. Can you blame me?” Rah asks, lowering his voice so the coaches and other players hanging outside don't hear him; neither one of us wants to make a scene around all these white folks. “You act like you don't know what this is. No matter how many dudes you go out with or how many girls I date, it's always going to be you and me.”

“Whatever, Rah,” I say, moving away from him, but he grabs my folded arms, pulling me into him. Damn, he smells good. Now his cologne is going to be all up in my nostrils for the rest of the day, bringing back nostalgia and shit.

“Whatever nothing,” Rah says, attempting to hug me, but I wrestle free of his grasp. If he gets me entangled in those ripped ebony arms, I'll never keep my cool. “What's your problem?” He looks genuinely hurt, but I have to be strong in my stance.

“My problem is and has always been that you have many, many more girls than I do dudes. It's time to change shit up, Rah. I'm tired of your crap.” A few of the players look in our direction, but we're being low-key even though the conversation is intense.

“But I'll always respect you as my queen.” Like I give a damn about sharing his throne.

“No more buts, Rah. Your love of ass is what got us in this shit right now.”

“So that's it—just like that, you're going back to the white boy?” Rah asks as Chance comes outside for some fresh air and a cigarette as if he could smoke on campus. If he were on the basketball team and not just taking it for his PE elective, I'm positive Chance would've quit smoking by now.

“What's up, my peeps?” Chance says, trying to lighten the mood. But there's no hope of us coming to any type of resolution today. Rah looks at Chance and nods before going inside. He can be mad all he wants, but Rah knows I'm right. If he weren't running around with fast girls, we would still be together. If anyone's to blame for the way we turned out, it's him.

Chance shrugs at me, takes out his iPod headphones, and puts them in his ears. I walk past him back into the building, and he's right behind me, bopping along to the music in his head. I guess he's done playing for today, and I'm done watching. The bell's about to ring, and I should leave early to beat the after-school crowd in the parking lot.

“Hey, Chance, can I see what's on your iPod? I need to upload mine with some new music,” I say, taking the small electronic device from his hand and glancing at his playlist.

“You know you ain't gon' find what you're looking for in there. He don't get down like we do,” Mickey says, making herself laugh, and she's the only one. I guess she'll never get tired of cracking on the white boy in our crew. Jeremy's much more of a rogue spirit and doesn't hang with us like Chance does now that he's dating Nellie.

“What makes you black, Mickey? I mean, for real,” Nellie says, looking sideways at her man. “Some of the white people we go to school with know more about black culture than some of the black people I know.”

“The answer to that question lies in your zip code, Nellie. Or have you forgotten you live only five minutes away from me in Compton?” Mickey's thinking is so limited it's sad. Nigel's mom will never find that shit tolerable. I have faith that Mickey can change and grow, but I doubt Mrs. Esop sees Mickey the same way I do.

“Being black is about more than where I live, Mickey,” Nellie says, rolling her eyes. “I know I'm black and beautiful, isn't that right, baby?” I notice she didn't mention anything about her loving her black hair, but I'm going to leave that topic alone for right now. I know Nellie's sensitive about her shit.

“You're damn right,” Chance says, kissing Nellie on the neck and making us all sick.

“Even if Chance lived in our hood, he would still be the little white boy he is, no matter how he dresses or what kind of car he drives, no offense,” Mickey says, but I think there's plenty of offense taken. Rah turns around from where he's posted up on the wall and shakes his head at our conversation. He agrees with Mickey but on a completely different level. I would, too, but there's one important missing link that would squash this entire debate.

“What if I told you you were black, too?” I ask Chance, who looks like he's had the wind knocked out of him. The bell rings, suspending the question in the air. My girls rise from our bleacher, and Rah follows them to center court, where Nigel's still shooting practice hoops, leaving Chance and I to talk one-on-one.

“Jayd, why do you keep saying that?” Chance asks. I look into his hazel eyes and see his questions clearly. He knows he's got black in his blood but can't explain it.

“What if it was true?”

Chance looks down at his latest Jordans, basketball shorts, and expensive watch. He's sizing himself up against his dad, against Jeremy.

“I don't know,” Chance says, mulling the idea over in his head for himself. “I guess it would explain a lot.” I guess he really doesn't know his birth story after all, and if I stay in his head too long, I might accidentally tell him, and that's not my place. Luckily, I can jump out of a mind even if I can't control when I'm going to jump in.