If I Were Your Boyfriend (15 page)

walked to school at a brisk pace because I couldn't wait to walk up on Liz and confront her about what she'd done. I wanted an explanation. I wanted to know why she doped me up at the teen nightclub. Why she planted drugs on me and why she was spreading vicious rumors around. The more I thought about what she'd done, the angrier I became. Honestly, what she'd done was grounds for a good old-fashioned beat-down if not more. As I came to the four-way stop sign other students who were also heading to school joined me. That's when all the judgmental glaring and whispering started.

  "That's her, the drug dealer," I heard someone whisper. I tried to ignore the whispering but it was difficult. I continued on my way more determined than ever to set things right and to clear my name. Finally I arrived and entered the school through the gymnasium doors. The girls' basketball team was still having early-morning practice. As I walked across the gym, the entire basketball team stopped dribbling their balls and focused on me.

  "Hey," I heard one of the girls call out to me. I glanced in the direction of the voice and noticed five girls approaching me. I suddenly felt very uneasy. I felt as if something major was about to go down and I didn't want to be a part of it.

  "I hear you're the one who has given our school a bad name and reputation," said this girl who was extremely tall. She had on pink sweatpants and a pink T-shirt with the words Don't You Want to Take Us Out? written across her bosom. The other four girls were dressed similarly but were not as tall.

  "Excuse me?" I asked, not understanding what she was talking about.

  "Come on." She leaned into me and spoke in a loud whisper. "Everyone knows you're the supplier. Everyone knows that you're going to be going to jail soon. And from what we've heard, going to jail would be like going to a family reunion for you."

  I couldn't believe it. This girl, whom I'd never met before, had approached me with a nasty attitude and had the nerve to talk about my family.

  "You'd better get away from me before you get dealt with," I threatened her, even though I had no intentions of fighting her.

  "What, you think you can take me?" She began flailing in a violent manner. "Do you know who I am? I'm Dorothy Pam Pinkerton and I'll put you in the hospital! You think you're big and bad enough to jump on me. Come on with it, then. We can do this. Because of you, all of the other schools in the conference believe that our school is filled with drug addicts and losers. Because of all the negative publicity you brought to this school, the college basketball coach who had planned to come watch me play canceled her trip. You may have ruined my chances of getting a scholarship. I've just been waiting to see you," she snarled at me. Anger and waves of rage were in her eyes. The other four girls closed in around me. I looked into the eyes of each girl and all I saw was hatred.

  "Look," I said to Dorothy, "I don't know what you've heard, but it's not true. I am not some dope dealer, okay? I'm sorry that your scholarship opportunity got messed up."

  "Sorry just isn't good enough," she said, then lowered her eyes to slits and moved forward. She was very close now and looking down at me. My heart began to race like a herd of wild stallions galloping across an open prairie. I wanted to run but I couldn't.

  "Make your move." She pushed my shoulder.

  "Did you just hear what I said?" I gave her a nasty look. "I told you that whatever you heard just isn't true. Your missed opportunity isn't my fault!" I hollered out loud, hoping that someone would hear me and come to my aid. I quickly scanned around for the coach but didn't see him. The girl pushed me again and my duffel bag fell from my shoulder.

  "Coach Sanders is in the bathroom and he'll be there long enough for me to jack you up! So, what are you going to do now? I'm all up in your face."

  "You need to back up off of me, Dorothy," I said, trying to sound tough. I didn't want to fight, especially not on my first day back from being suspended. She pushed me a third time but then I pushed her back. She tried to grab me but I fought her off. The other four girls began shouting all at once. Dorothy swung at me but I ducked and caused her to miss her mark. Instinctively, I dropkicked her and nailed her on the thigh. I was about to swing on her but the others girls grabbed me from behind.

  At that moment I heard a man's voice ask, "Ladies, what's going on over there?"

  It was Mr. Sanders, my guidance counselor and the girls' basketball coach. I exhaled a sigh of relief. I was happy to see him.

  "This isn't over yet, Keysha," said Dorothy as she limped away. Mr. Sanders approached.

  "Keysha, I should have known you were at the center of the controversy. What was all that about?" he asked.

  "Nothing," I answered as the pace of my heartbeat began to return to normal.

  "Well, wait for me in my office. I have to give you a permission slip."

  "A permission slip for what?" I asked.

  "Students who are returning from a suspension need to have a permission slip from their guidance counselor indicating that their suspension period has concluded."

  "Dang," I fussed at him.

  "Get your attitude in check, Keysha. Getting another suspension would not look good to the judge when your case is finally heard." Mr. Sanders threatened and advised me all in one swift tongue-lashing.

  "Whatever," I answered as I continued on toward his office.

"I'm going to be late for math class," I said.

  "Relax, I'll walk you to class so that it doesn't get marked."

  I sighed impatiently and tapped my index finger against his desk repeatedly. My unconscious tapping must have annoyed him because he stopped what he was doing momentarily and looked at me.

  "You know, Keysha, it's no picnic down at the juvenile detention center."
Oh, boy, here we go. Another lecture,
I thought to myself. "I've been there many times and none of the students have ever said that they loved being there." I glared at Mr. Sanders because I had no clue as to what he was talking about. "If you get convicted, the judge is going to place you at a maximum-security juvenile detention center. Your freedom will be completely taken away from you. The judge can sentence you to twelve months or longer. The jail cells are cold, the food is horrible and the guards will not put up with any nonsense or foolishness."

  I didn't say anything to Mr. Sanders. I just shifted my eyes around the room and focused on everything but him. I didn't want to listen to him. I didn't want to even think about being locked up against my will for something I didn't do.

  "Don't get into any trouble, young lady," he scolded me.

  "Yeah, whatever," I answered sarcastically. He'd gotten on my nerves.

  "See, that attitude of yours is going to get you into deeper trouble." He pointed out what he perceived to be a character flaw.

  "No, it's not!" I snapped at him. "Why does everyone assume that I'm guilty? Huh? You're not in my corner, Mr. Sanders, so don't even try to act like it. When the police came for me, you automatically assumed that I was responsible for everything. Well, I'm here to tell you that I'm not."

  "I am here for you, Keysha. I want to help in any way that I can. You say that you're not responsible, then tell me who is."

  "Forget it. I just want to get to class," I said.

  "You're only making things worse on yourself by not talking about it." He tried to convince me to open up to him.

  At that moment I made sure every word that came out of my mouth next was filled with damnation.

  "The lawyer that my daddy got for me told me not to discuss my case with anyone and that includes you." I folded my arms across my chest.

  "Okay, that's fair enough," said Mr. Sanders as he pushed himself away from his desk. "Come on, I'll take you to your class now."

  When I walked into my math class, the first person I scanned the room for was Liz. I saw her sitting and talking to another student. The student she was talking to directed Liz's attention to me. When our eyes locked upon each other I was shooting artillery and missiles with mine. Liz winked at me. She was toying with me the way a cat toys with a mouse. I took my seat on the opposite side of the room and waited for the period to end. When the bell rang, I sprang from my seat and marched toward Liz but was stopped cold in my tracks when Ms. Allen called me.

  "Keysha, please come here. I need to see you," she said.

  "Dang." I stomped my foot against the floor. Liz didn't even look in my direction. She just walked out of the room as if I were a complete stranger to her. She didn't say hello, or how is it going or anything. I was so infuri ated by this that if I'd had a blowtorch on me she would've been toasted beyond recognition.

  "Keysha, you need to take a make-up test," Ms. Allen informed me. I huffed and she mistook my irritation with Liz as an attitude problem with her.

  "I don't have to give you a chance to take this test, you know?" She pulled a pencil out of her desk drawer.

  "No, I want to take the make-up test," I answered.

  "We covered a lot of ground while you were out. So you'll need to spend time catching up. If you need a tutor let me know." Ms. Allen opened up her lesson book.

  "Keysha, Keysha, Keysha," she repeated. "You're a borderline
D
in my class. If you don't pull it together, you will fail."

  "That's because I haven't really been applying myself," I answered truthfully. "I can do better."

  "I hope so because this class is the lowest math class this school offers. You can't afford to fail."

  "Okay. I'll do better," I said.

  "I'll give you two days to take the make-up test. You'll need to come into this class early on Wednesday morning. Understood?"

  "Yes," I answered as the students in the second-period class began taking their seats. She focused her attention on the students who were entering.

  "Mr. Wesley, long time no see. Please come up here and see me." Ms. Allen began talking to one of the boys who'd just entered the room. I looked at Wesley briefly but was distracted when I heard the second-period bell ring.

  "Dang it. I'm late now."

  "I'll give you a pass," said Ms. Allen, and began filling out a late slip.

  "What's up?" Wesley spoke to me.

  "Hi," I said. I didn't study Wesley because I was in a hurry to get my slip and head off to science so that I could catch up with Liz.

  "Are you new here?" Wesley asked.

  Before I could answer, Ms. Allen interrupted. "Mr. Wesley, this is not a place to pick up girls. It's my math class."

  "Oh, sorry about that, Ms. Allen, I didn't mean to be so disrespectful," Wesley apologized.

  "Here you go, Keysha. Remember, first thing Wednesday, you need to be in here taking that exam. I will not accept any excuses. If you're not here I will fail you."

  "Okay," I said, and rushed out of the room.

  When I entered my second-period science class I gave my tardy slip to Miss Eisner, who was my teacher.

  "Welcome back, Keysha." I was all set to go take my seat next to Liz, who was my science partner, but there was someone else sitting in my seat.

  "Who is your science partner?" asked Miss Eisner.

  "Liz Lloyd," I answered.

  "Oh, yes. I had to give her a new partner since you were out. You are now with William Baker, opposite side of the room and toward the back."