Get Ready for War (16 page)

“Bonjour, Miss London,” the maitre d' said, greeting me with a smile. “Est-ce que vous aimeriez manger aujourd'hui?”

“Good morning, François. I'll have grilled shrimp over a bed of crisp spinach, and a bottle of Bling.” I really wasn't hungry, but a nice refreshing bottle of water would hopefully soothe the gnawing in my stomach caused by all the stress of not hearing from Justice. I hadn't really eaten much since last Thursday, and had dropped another four pounds, which absolutely made my mother jump with joy this morning.

“For the lovely lady,” François said, winking at me, “coming right up. Good to have you back.”

And for the first time all day, I smiled. François was the only person I truly liked at this school. “Merci,” I replied in French.

But my smile was quickly snatched from my lips the minute I heard, “Heeeeeeeeeeey, Miss Lonnnndon.” I glanced over at the table on the left side of me and there was Co-Co Ming, giving me a phony finger wave. He wore a purple and pink Versace print shirt and khaki men's dress pants with a pink tie. “Welcome back from that beatdown.” I rolled my eyes. He continued, “Lonnnnnnnndon, daaaaaaarling. Smile for the camera, click, click, click.”

As he snapped a picture of me, I shot him a look that said
Not today. As a matter of fact, not ever!

“Ooooops,” he gasped theatrically. “Clutchin' pearls, clutchin' pearls.” He tossed his pink Mohawk from side to side and he reminded me of a peacock. The whole table laughed at his antics.
What an effen cream puff!
I despised that boy, or whatever he was.

I kept on walking, passing the side-eyed glances as I made my way toward our table, daring anyone to say something slick. I stopped dead in my tracks. As if my day couldn't get any worse.
WTF?! Oh, hell no!

I couldn't believe my eyes. Rich was posted up at our table with Spencer, cackling and giggling like they were reunited and had found their way back to being the best of friends again. They had already ordered and were eating—
without
me!

I blinked. This was not what I expected to walk up on; the two of them breaking bread and getting along! I know we were all
supposed
to pretend that we liked each other for appearance's sake, but the two of them were taking it too far. They looked like they were really enjoying each other's company—a little too much!

I walked over and tapped my foot. “Oh, so this is why you didn't meet me at the lockers?”

Rich huffed, placing her fork on her plate. She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “Meet you? Girlie, please. The last time I saw you, you put me out of your house because a cutie walked through the door; remember that?”

“Oh, Rich, please. You didn't meet me because you had a cackle and caw appointment with this dizzy—”

“No, no, no,” Spencer said, wagging a lobster tail at me. “Don't go there, you giant panda. If you want to get poached, you got the right one. We were having a good time without you. And we don't need your fever up in here. So if you're tryna get it hot, you had better spin around on your padded paws and high-step it up on into the rubber room, and go release your crazy.” She turned to Rich. “Because we're not what, Rich?”

“Havin' it,” Rich answered, snapping her fingers.

They both fell out laughing.

I rapidly blinked my eyes. I felt like I was thrown into a time capsule and sent back to last Monday when I had to confront those little Starlet hoes. This couldn't be Rich turning on me; not like this. Oh no. This had to be an imposter.

I shifted my handbag from one hand to the other, then placed a hand on my hip. “You know what? If I have to walk out of here and come back, it's only to see if this situation is really real. 'Cause the last I checked,
Rich
”—I paused, then neck rolled it—“you said Spencer was a mouth-whore, blowing out mono like it was a breath mint.”

“Oh, really?” Spencer snapped, neck-rolling it back at me. “Well, the last I checked,
London
, Rich said you were real quick to block somebody's bump 'n' grind. A jealous freak is what she called you. Mad 'cause you couldn't get any action. Had a cutie up in your room and you tried to boom-boom rock him for yourself, and he wasn't even stroking, I mean checking, for you,
L-Boogie
.”

Rich giggled.

I felt weak at the knees.

“And like Rich said,” Spencer continued, “your boyfriend Doctor Corny, the Mad Rapper, wannabe skankster ... wiggy-wiggy whack! So don't come over here trying to do me 'cause you will be done, hon. You will be baked, fried, and boiled alive.”

Co-Co walked by and snapped, “Owwwwl, who shotcha? Boom-boom, popped ya? Lonnnnnndon, pick your face up, boo.”

Spencer continued on as if Co-Co were invisible. “Then she got the nerve to go by some
C-Smoove
. Ha, yeah, right. He can't be all that
smoove
romping around in the forest playing with endangered species.”

I frowned. “Ditz-ball, who and what are you talking about?”

She huffed, raising her voice. “I'm talking about your boyfriend,
C-Smoove
; and you, panda, aren't you and your relatives on the world's most endangered species list?”

Co-Co gasped. “
You're
C-Smoove's girlfriend? Oh. My. God. I think I'm going to be sick!” Before I could ask him what the hell he meant by that, he quickly swished off in his purple kitten heels, leaning over and clutching his stomach as if he were about to toss up his lunch.

“What was that all about?” Rich asked no one in particular. And of course she didn't wait for anyone to answer. “Ummph, Co-Co has some serious issues. You know his father threw him out. Yup, tossed him and his kitten heels right on out into the streets. Ummph. I wish Richard Montgomery would. He knows I would turn it out. Boom-boom, bop him right upside his head.”

“Oh, Rich,” Spencer said, taking a sip of her kiwi smoothie. “The only thing you like to boom-bop up on is a boy's”—she giggled—“oh, never mind. But, ummm, excuse me,” she said, looking me over, “and who are you?”

I was sick of that girl. Her mouth was too slick for my liking. I felt like tossing the table up. And before I knew it, I had lunged at her and cocked my hand in her face like it was a gun. I was ready to beat her upside the head. “Slut, I will beat your face in.”

Spencer slid her hand down into her bag. And before I knew it, she had whipped out an Altoids tin, set it up on the table, then popped it open. She eyed me, then dumped the tin upside down. BB gun pellets rolled all over the table. “Do it, boo,” she said, laying a BB gun next to the tin. “Make my day, panda.” She patted the handle. “And I will stunt your growth. You will be picking pellets out of them big kneecaps of yours, Buffalo Billy.”

Rich jumped up from the table. “Now wait. Y'all don't need to be arguing over me. Spencer, put that away; there's no need for violence. Say no to guns, boo. See, this is why we can't stay out of the headlines for more than five seconds. Y'all don't know how to act. We need to get along. Both of you need to stop being so selfish. It's only one of me. Not even on my best day am I two people. Now, London . . . Sit down and rest your feet. We don't need all of this tension.”

“Yeah,” Spencer said, smirking. “Sit down and park them hoofs.”

Rich sprawled out over the table, hollering and laughing at the top of her lungs. “Bwwaaaaaahahahaha. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod! I can't breathe! Bwwaaaaahahahahaha! No you didn't tell her to park her hoofs, girl. Bwaaaaahahahaha. You are crazy!”

I couldn't believe this. That ho had turned on me. Rich was a two-faced, backstabbing slut-bucket.

I set my bag on the table, folding my arms across my chest. Okay, I was pouting, so what! Rich had no right to laugh at me like that. “Haha, hell. I don't see anything funny.”

Rich finally pulled herself together, then looked over at Spencer and said, “Now, Spencer, that wasn't nice. But for real, London, I am upset with you for how you treated me the other day. You didn't have to embarrass me like that in front of Sexy Chocolate.”

I pulled out a chair and took a seat. Just the thought of her calling my man some Sexy Chocolate had knotted my stomach. This ho was relentless. She was a walking poster for an Easy Lay commercial. I mean really. She should have been a mattress, as easy as she was to lie on. Freak!

I needed damage control before this whole situation turned uglier than what it already was. Spencer was winning her back, and I couldn't have that. I sighed. “Rich, honestly, I didn't mean for it to happen like that. And I really don't need for you to be mad at me right now.”

Rich eyed me, then pursed her lips. She pushed out a deep sigh. “Well, all right. I guess I can forgive you,
this
time. But don't let it happen again. The King Herman version of the Bible says—”

“Ugh,” Spencer said, shaking her head. “Rich, everybody knows it's King Henry.”

I rolled my eyes, disgusted.
They were both idiots.
“It's King James.”

Rich rolled her eyes back at me. “Whatever. King Herman, King James, or whoever else he might be, says in the Bible to forgive like seven times”—she reached into her bag and pulled out a pink leather-bound notebook, then flipped through a few pages—“and right about now, London, you are working on forgiveness number four. See,” she said, pointing to a page in her notebook. “Right here is where I'm going to add this one 'cause I gotta keep track of what you hoes do to me.”

She pulled out a pen and started writing as she spoke. “Monday at twelve thirty-seven, London was forgiven, once again. And I really don't know why I keep forgiving her. I'm waaaaaaay too kind. And, although I really wanna get it crunked, I have to do right and stay true to what the Bible says.” She snapped her book shut, then looked up at me. “I don't know why I have to keep telling you that I worship in the Church of Stay-Fly-And-Be-A-Lady-At-All-Times, so I don't know why you keep testing my religion. But, I tell you what. If you act right, London, for the next sixty days I'll knock off one of your violations.”

Spencer giggled. “Well, since I won't be popping kneecaps and busting veins out the side of panda's neck today, I guess I should collect my bullets.” She picked up all but one and placed them back in her tin. “This one's for you,” she said, sliding it over to me. “As a souvenir to remind you what happens when you skid out of your lane. But, anyway, welcome back to school.”

“Isn't this like your third suspension since the first day of school?” Rich asked, shaking her head as she cut into her crab cake. She rolled her eyes up in her head as if she were having an orgasm. “Oooooh, this is soooo delish. Mmmmph, makes me wanna slap somebody.” She finished chewing, then said, “Giiiiiirl, I don't mean no harm. But looks to me like you have some behavioral issues.”

Spencer agreed. “Uh-huh, straitjacket crazy.”

Rich chuckled. “But for real, London, you really need to get it together.” She opened her notebook again, pointing to the top of a page. She started reading from a list. “Number one, you have issues with your parents; two, can't keep your hands to yourself, constantly suspended; three, you keep having man problems; four, you're sexually backed up, can't get none; five, you're jealous of me. And I thought we were besties. Six, don't know how to treat your bestie; seven . . .”

I was stunned. I couldn't believe this delusional trick actually thought I was jealous of her. And then she had the audacity to be keeping tabs on me. Good thing I didn't throw away the notebook I kept on her. It was as thick as a phone book with all the shenanigans and stunts she pulled.

Spencer sighed. “Ohsweetcreamylovebiscuits, London, you're even more messed up than I thought.”

“Wait a minute,” I snapped. “This is not Pick on London Day.”

Rich smacked her lips. “You're right. It's Forgive London for the Two Hundred and Sixty-Seventh Time Day, that's what this is. But, whatever.” She slammed her book shut. “You finally get it. It's not all about you.”

She eyed me as the waiter placed my food in front of me. I lifted the silver cover and stuck my fork into a shrimp, then slipped it into my mouth. “Anyway, what were the two of you over here laughing about before I walked over? I know y'all weren't laughing at me.”

Spencer waved me on. “Oh, musty rabbit, please. You're not that funny for us to be laughing at you.”

“Then what was so funny?” I picked at a piece of spinach with my fork, then placed it in my mouth. I forced it down, then took a sip of water. “Let me in on the joke 'cause from what I saw it looked like the two of you were having a grand ole time.”

Rich clapped her hands. “See. There you go, acting all jealous again. This is what I'm talking about.” She opened her book again. “Now I gotta add another—”

“Rich, shut that book and stop writing crap in it about me. Geesh.”

“Mmmph, yeah, 'cause if she doesn't she's going to run out of numbers,” Spencer said, clasping her manicured hands in front of her. She eyed me, then looked over at Rich. “Umm, Rich, can we trust her enough to keep a secret?”

I blinked.

Rich looked me over, then twisted her lips up. “Yeah, I guess we can. So you want me to tell her, or you?”

“No, girl, you can tell her,” Spencer said, pulling out her compact, then checking her face. Conceited ho! “She's your cheerleader. Pom-pom away.” She applied a fresh coat of lip gloss, then snapped her compact shut.