It Is What It Is (5 page)

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Authors: Nikki Carter

BOOK: It Is What It Is
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9
T
his year, I have the great, great pleasure of having English class with Ricky and ... wait for it ... my knight in shining moisture ... Kevin. He sits behind me, and Ricky is in the next row.
We're waiting for our teacher, Ms. Beckman, to start the class. It looks like she's out in the hall flirting with one of the security guards. I am not mad at her! Go ahead with your
fresh
self, Ms. Beckman.
“Choir rehearsal was fun last night, wasn't it, Gia?” Kevin asks.
See, this is why he gets on my nerves. It's not that choir rehearsal wasn't fun, but Kevin just wants everyone to know that we hang out after school hours and over the weekend. I don't even know why he does it! It's not like anyone cares what I do when I'm not at school.
“It was choir rehearsal, Kev. How much fun could it be?”
He replies, “Well, I don't know about you, but I enjoy lifting up the name of my Lord and Savior.”
Ricky's eyes light up. “Speaking of fun, are we going to Cedar Point on Saturday? Everyone in the junior class is supposed to be there.”
It's a Longfellow High tradition for the upperclassmen to go to Cedar Point on Labor Day weekend. It's pretty much the last weekend of the summer and Cedar Point is the only real amusement park anywhere near Cleveland, and it's about an hour and a half away. I didn't even think about trying to go last year, but it sounds like fun.
“I'm down,” I say enthusiastically. “Are you driving, Ricky?”
“Of course! You rolling with us, Kev?”
Kevin grins. “Only if Gia wants me to go.”
“What if I say I want you to stay at home?” I ask.
A frown contorts Kevin's face. “Why would you say that, Gia? You're supposed to be my friend.”
“Yep, and I'm going to put you on friendship time-out if you keep up your foolishness.”
“Okay,” Kevin pouts. “I'm sorry.”
I reply, “You're forgiven, and of course I want you to go. It wouldn't be any fun without you, Kevin!”
Kevin smiles so hard that his eyes narrow to little slits. “Good! 'Cause I'm coming! I'm gonna win you a bear, Gia,” he says, still smiling.
“Hope can ride with us too, but we've gotta split the gas. Is that cool?” Ricky asks.
“That's cool with me. Mother Cranford is gonna trip about me not being there on Saturday, and I can't go Friday night because we've got a game.”
Ricky says, “Maybe you should try to go today. I'll help you, if you want.”
“Nah, that's okay,” I say. “You have football practice.”
Everyone in our circle and at our church are super thrilled about Ricky being the starting quarterback this season. He's shown so much promise, along with a running back, James, that there were scouts from Division I schools in our stands at the very first game.
“Don't you have Hi-Steppers practice?” Kevin asks.
“Yep, but Mrs. Vaughn will let me go early if I tell her it's for Mother Cranford.”
Kevin looks at his watch, “Where is Ms. Beckman? I am here to learn, not to watch her make a love connection!”
“Chill out, Kevin,” I say with a giggle. I wonder if he made that funny on purpose or if it was accidental.
“Anyway, I was thinking we should get hotel rooms up in Sandusky instead of trying to ride back from the park late at night,” Ricky says.
“Do you really think Gwen is gonna let me stay in a hotel room overnight without a chaperone? Plus, don't you have to be at least eighteen to get a hotel room?”
Ricky shrugs. “Brother Bryan is going and taking some of the young people from the church. He said he'd get the rooms for us. Why don't you just ask Gwen? It's not like you'll be in the same room with boys. My parents already said yes.”
“I'll ask, but I'm definitely not making any promises.”
“Okay.”
Jewel and Kelani poke their heads inside our classroom and shout out, “Ooo-OOO!”
“Ooo-OOO!” I shout.
Ricky laughs. “Y'all sound like a flock of carrier pigeons.”
“Do not hate, Ricky.”
“That's cool how you got Candy on the squad. I saw her in the hallway celebrating with her crew.”
I reply angrily, “I did not get her on the squad. If it was up to me she wouldn't even be riding the bench. I don't need her participating in my extracurricular activities.”
“Aw, Gia, don't be like that. She just wants to be like you. What's so wrong with that?”
“I'm unique, Ricky. Nobody needs a second Gia up in the spot. One Gia is absolutely sufficient.”
Ricky cocks his head to the side and smiles. “Okay. Maybe you're right.”
Ms. Beckman finally closes the door to our classroom. I guess she got a date or something because she is grinning from ear to ear.
Someone from the back of the class yells, “Did you get them digits, Ms. B?”
She tosses her long, straight, Barbie-doll-blond hair over her shoulder and replies, “That is for me to know and you
not
to know.”
Ms. Beckman continues, “Are you all ready for your first assignment of the school year?”
A collective groan rises up from our class. I guess I'm the only one who likes writing essays. Even Kevin is shaking his head in disgust.
“I just
love
your enthusiasm!” Ms. Beckman exclaims. “It is so refreshing.”
She goes around to the other side of her desk and pulls out a stack of romance novels. She holds them up for everyone to see.
“What do you all think these are?”
Kevin says, “Those are the books they sell at the supermarket.”
“Yes,” Ms. Beckman replies, “these are romance novels. I bet you all are wondering what these books have to do with eleventh-grade English.”
She needs to hurry up and explain where she's going with this. There was not one romance novel on our advanced placement reading list. And if she says we're reading this stuff, trust and believe Gwen will be up here with a quickness.
Ms. Beckman says, “Romance novels have a formula. Boy meets girl, something happens to keep boy from girl, boy and girl work out their differences, and finally boy and girl live happily ever after.”
Okay, what part of the game is this? I still can't tell what this has to do with a sista's SAT scores. She betta quit playing.
“For our first writing assignment of the year, I want us to do something fun!” Ms. Beckman continues. “We're going to write our own romantic short stories.”
“Do our stories have to follow that formula?” someone asks.
“No, not at all. You can follow the tried and true romance formula or you can invent your own. The only rule is that these stories should be works of fiction. Anyone who uses their friends as an inspiration will receive an F.”
Ricky has a doubtful expression on his face. “Can we work in groups?” he asks.
“Absolutely,” Ms. Beckman replies. “You may work in pairs or groups of three. The stories should be at least two thousand words and the most entertaining story will appear in the fall edition of the student newspaper. So, go ahead and form your groups. Happy writing!”
Kevin leans forward. “Gia, will you work with me?”
“Sure. Ricky, you want to make this thing a trio?”
Ricky smiles. “Only if Kevin wants me to be in your group.”
I'm going to do bodily harm to Ricky, right here and right now. It is totally his fault that Kevin has not gotten over his crush on me. Ricky says little stuff like this that continues to give Kevin hope, when, alas, there is none.
“Of course Kevin doesn't mind. Isn't that right, Kev?”
Kevin says, “That's cool, Ricky.”
Why does Kevin sound disappointed? Boo!
After English class is dismissed, it's off to Hi-Steppers rehearsal. We are doing our first new routine on Friday and it was, of course, choreographed by me. This is also the first rehearsal that includes the newbies—Candy and Dionna.
I usually am the first one to rehearsal, but eager beaver Candy has beat me here and is talking up a storm to Mrs. Vaughn. Instead of her signature thick braid, Candy has her hair in two pigtails with ribbons on the ends. I quickly scan her outfit as well. She better be glad she's not wearing anything that belongs to me.
Valerie sashays into the girl's locker room and immediately I see the inspiration for Candy's hairstyle. Valerie has her long brown hair parted down the middle and in two braids that she's pulled over her shoulders. Not surprisingly, there are two small ribbons at the end of each braid.
“Ooo-OOO!” Valerie calls.
“Ooo-OOO,” I reply. “You ready for Friday?”
“Of course I am. What about you?”
“You know it!”
Valerie carefully hangs her designer blouse in her locker and pulls a Spartans T-shirt over her head. “What's up with my boyfriend?” she asks.
“Who, Brad? I heard he went off to college.”
Valerie plops down next to me on the bench. “Not Brad. I'm talking about Ricky. I heard a rumor that your cousin is checking for him. Is that true?”
I swallow hard. So now Hope is shouting her crush from the rooftops. Wow. Well, as long as she doesn't keep asking me to be a part of her drama, I'm cool.
“She did mention something about thinking that Ricky was cute. That's about it.”
“That's it?” Valerie asks in a high-pitched voice. “Didn't you think you should mention that to me?”
I suck in my top lip and shake my head. “Why would I tell you about that?”
“Because of the rule. Hi-Steppers don't share boys ... ever.”
“Hope is not a Hi-Stepper.”
“But she was, and once you're a Hi-Stepper, you're always a Hi-Stepper,” Valerie replies.
A little chuckle escapes my lips. “Okay, let me get this straight. Hope gets completely humiliated by you and the rest of the Hi-Steppers, so much that she quits the squad. And now you expect her to still follow your rules?”
Valerie nods. “Yes, absolutely. And if you help her hook up with Ricky, you're also in violation of the rules.”
I stand and start walking toward the gym. “Valerie, you really need to think about that foolishness you just invented. I won't have anything to do with Hope and Ricky hooking up, but it has nothing to do with your rules.”
“What is it then?” asks Valerie. “Do you want him for yourself?”
“No, Valerie. Everyone is not your competition.”
Valerie seems satisfied with my somewhat truthful response. I don't want Ricky for myself, not now anyway. But not because I think he won't make a great boyfriend. It's mostly because I think it would be an exercise in futility (you know how I feel about giving definitions ... expand your vocab!).
In the gym, Candy is helping Dionna get a complex part of our Friday-night routine down. I have to admit that Candy is truly an asset to the squad. She and I have been practicing at home together, too. It's the only time we're not arguing.
“Y'all almost have it, but let me show you that clap/kick combination one more time,” I say.
I stand in front of them and demonstrate the intricate move, and wait for them to copy me. Jewel and Kelani join us as well, because neither of them have it down either.
Wait a minute, something is not right with this picture. Oh, now I see. Jewel and Kelani, as usual, are sporting matching hairstyles. Today they have afro puffs. Yes, you heard it correctly. Jewel has two giant bulks of blond synthetic braided hair attached to her very straight European hair. The result is a mess. An utter train wreck of a hotfoot mess.
“Why y'all trying to swagger jack me?” I ask Kelani.
“What?”
“The afro puffs?”
Kelani pats her own puffs, which are several shades lighter than her own hair. “You like?” she asks.
“Umm, no!” says Valerie, finally joining us from the locker room. “We're only having one puff princess on this squad and that's going to be Gia. If you two wear your hair like that on Friday, you're gonna be on the bench.”
“Don't hate, Valerie. Participate!” Jewel says.
We practice the routine over and over again, until it is perfect. Even Mrs. Vaughn is impressed with how it comes together. We're going to look extra hot on Friday night.
Everyone goes to the locker room to get dressed. I'm trying to ignore the chatter, because I have to rush myself over to Mother Cranford's as soon as I leave here.

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