On the Come Up (3 page)

They hadn’t heard her sing at IS 53 June Talent. None of them had. Hitting every single note of “I Will Always Love You” by Whitney Houston, singing so beautiful, the whole auditorium had gone wild. Her choir teacher, Mr. Preston, had walked across the stage and hugged her, then turned her to face the crowd. First time she won a ribbon. First time she won anything.

She gazed out at the sand and the sea. Couldn’t hear the surf. Man with his transistor listening to some ballgame. A girl shrieking, getting a bucket dunked on her head. Raymel riding farther down the boardwalk now, pulling his bike up alongside some fellas who’d come up the ramp and were settling in the shade of the gazebo. Who that. That him? Had his dreads pulled back now, shirt off, tucked into his back pocket. Yeah, it was him—the boy Darius Greene, giving Raymel daps. Dang, she didn’t know they friends.

She suddenly felt dizzy, dots popping in front of her eyes. She leaned over the fountain and drank. First days living in Far Rock, Blessed had brought her down to the street to meet some kids. AnnMarie didn’t know nobody. All of them in a loose cluster up the block, playing some game with a rope.

Make friends, Blessed had said but AnnMarie refused to leave her side so when the ice-cream truck pulled up, her mother drew the food stamps from her purse and started waving them around. She said, Who want ice cream. Who want ice cream? Miss Blessed buying you ice cream. All the kids crowded in then, calling, Me, Miss Blessed! Me. Me. Me. Thank you Miss Blessed! That yo’ ma? Oh, my gawd. She the nicest ma in the world.

AnnMarie had looked up at her then, standing tall, with hair she kept natural, styled that day with a iron and eyes that stared straight, not dragging. Those chinky eyes. Veiled smiling eyes.
She the nicest ma in the world
.

All the kids sat on the rail, licking they rocket pops and rainbow sherberts and chocolate crunchies, AnnMarie right there with them, the ice cream melting across her knuckles, dripping onto her knee. Even still, she tried to make it last.

She took another drink from the fountain, then turned looking over at the gazebo. Someone over there had turned up the
boom box. Method Man rapping. She watched Darius dip his head, keeping time with his fingers.

Hell, no. No way she startin’ 8th grade without some Jordache. Guess. Diesel. The new Diesel jeans with the side stitch … Put the thirty-seven dollas with the hundred eighteen she got hidden in her drawer, that buy something. That get you something.

Plus she had days a summer. Days a summer still.

When AnnMarie walked in, Blessed was dozing on the couch, the fan blowing hot air around the room, Steve Harvey on the TV. She went straight for the fridge, pulled it open and found it empty except for the orangeade sitting there on the top shelf. Her stomach felt torn.

She knelt next to her mother, touched her leg. She knew Blessed didn’t like being woke when she in one of her dozes.

Ma … she said softly.

Ma, I’m hungry.

Her mother didn’t stir. AnnMarie wondered how long she’d been sleeping, what time Miss Jessica left off, the scent of clove and cinnamon still in the air. AnnMarie stood up, walked back into the kitchen, pulled open the fridge and stared. Mr. Chow’s Chicken Stir-fry cost $5.49. $3.99 get you the lo mein noodles. A dollar get you rice with beef juice on top. She could feel the bills pressing through her pocket. She hesitated, then reached into the cupboard and pulled down a can of Chef Boyardee.

She dumped the ravioli in the pot, turned up the flame.

Halfway home Raymel had caught up to her, pushing his bike slow. We should go to my boy Darius’ house, he said.

How you know him?

I know everybody.

Oh, you Mr. Popular now.

Raymel tsked, smiling. He got a studio set up in his room.

Word?

We could lay down some tracks. Throw in one a your hooks.

AnnMarie looked at him sideways. For real? You told him about me?

No, I’m just saying … We could lay down some tracks, see what come out.

AnnMarie glanced at him. Where he live at.

Over there by Nameoke.

He pushed the bike along, the two a them bumping shoulders, eyes on the ground.

He said, we put some work in, see what come out.

She ate standing at the counter, wiping up the sauce with a piece of bread. Steve Harvey going on about something. She tuned him out, drifting to Darius leaning back against the rail. His skin deep chocolate. A beedie to his lips. She let a picture roll out. His arm heavy on her shoulder, walking real slow, letting everybody see. She’d be wearing a halter, not this one, but another one she’d seen in Teisha’s closet, soft like silk. And her breasts would be big. Big enough to push out the cloth …

AnnMarie turned off the TV. She stood for a moment in the stillness, listening to her mother breathe.

She ran all the way down to Beach 9. The sky was changing, pale blue folding into twilight. Yellow moon hanging low and fat over Far Rock train yard. On the boardwalk, kids were still roaming, hanging by the rail.

Yo, Wallace, where Raymel at?

They went by to Jason house.

Wha—? When he leave off?

Wallace shrugged and she stood for a moment, not knowing what to do.

What, he ditch you, AnnMarie? Wallace asked.

No, he didn’t ditch me, what building Jason live at?

12-70.

She knew she couldn’t go over there, not into Redfern after dark. She missed Crystal all of a sudden. Felt her heart banging in her chest, she didn’t know why. Stop banging, she thought. Chill.

He come back, tell ’im I’ma be at Teisha’s, she said, then turned and ran back the way she came.

She swung through the door of 1440 where Teisha lived, reached up and pressed the buzzer.

Who that?

Ann Marie.

She heard the click and she was in. She took the stairs slow, calming herself. Breathe, AnnMarie. These girls your friend. Don’t matter Crystal’s not here.

Hey y’all. What up—we cyphering?

No we ain’t cyphering, Teisha snapped as AnnMarie stepped in.

Damn, Teish. Why you so nasty. This from Niki who was sitting with Sunshine at the kitchen table rolling and unrolling the sleeves of her red tee ’til they looked just right. Where you at today, AnnMarie, Niki said. We was here spittin’.

Raymel told me later.

Raymel stupid, Teisha yelled from the other room. Niki ignored her, picking up her story again—telling Sunshine how Nadette had chased her down the block, trying to run her over.

AnnMarie slid into a seat. She watched Niki pull the loose curls of her cinammon-colored afro back into a ponytail.

Shoulda seen her face, Niki said, shaking her head.

Sunshine just looked at her, rubbing cocoa butter on her elbow, the scent filling the air.

Teisha stuck her head into the kitchen. When we leave, I don’t want no fighting in my house. Just tell the girl you sorry.

I ain’t gonna be here, Niki said. I’m coming wit’ y’all.

Sunshine tsked. You should
tell
the girl you sorry.

AnnMarie looked up at Teisha. Where y’all goin?

Open mic.

Oooh, where at? Can I come, can I come?

No you can’t come. You
twelve
.

She followed Teisha to the bathroom. Leaned against the door and watched her put on her lashes. Sephora brand.

They got glitter on them?

Mm-hm.

AnnMarie’s eyes drifted from the mirror to Teisha’s jeans that fit snug, cuffed just above the heels of her silver mules. Some people say she look like Lil’ Kim. Skinny waist with a big ass. You could put a damn coffee mug on that thing and it won’t fall off. AnnMarie wished she had a butt like that.

Can’t I come? I’ll go home and change.

Teisha cut her a look through the mirror. Where Crystal at?

She with her mother.

Teisha didn’t answer, didn’t look at her again, so AnnMarie wandered back into the kitchen where Sunshine was saying to Niki: I’da kill you myself.

Niki flounced. But I ain’t done nothing.

Who you foolin’, Sunshine said. You need to keep your hands to yourself, yo.

AnnMarie slumped down for real now. She didn’t know what they was talking about. She just knew she was about to get left. Well. She wouldn’t tell them about the boy Darius and his studio. Didn’t want to make nobody jealous.

The apartment door flung open just then and there was Nadette, standing in the middle of the room, glaring. Burning holes into the back of Niki’s head. The room got quiet. Sunshine
stood up, giving Niki a look but still Niki didn’t move. She just sat there ’til Teisha came
clickety-clack
across the floor, looked at the two a them, told ’em to work it out, go in the other room and work it the fuck out.

Then Teisha left with Sunshine. Both of them dressed up fine, out the door and gone. Niki followed Nadette into the bathroom, closed the door, and AnnMarie sat in the stillness for a while, listening to the muffled sounds of their voices ’til it got quiet. AnnMarie stood, walked into Teisha’s room, crossed to the closet where she reached up and brushed her fingers across the clothes. All them pretty clothes.

Last time she was in there with Raymel, he’d come up behind her.

He said, You gonna learn to dance?

Whatchu mean.

Teisha dance. My cousin saw her down at the club. She’s good too, he said. They put mad money in her string.

But she hadn’t been listening. She’d been touching the clothes. Oh, my gawd. Look at this, Raymel … Seventy-nine dollas, she ain’t even take the tag off yet.

His hands had gone around her waist and she’d felt his lips brush her neck. She turned into him, put her hands on his shoulders and closed her eyes. She pretended she was Teisha, lifted her chin and waited for his lips to find hers.

The night air had cooled some but it still lay down and stuck to your skin.

She went along the ramp, passing the Beach 9 sign, and stood watching the couples move in and out the pools of light all the way down the boardwalk. Strolling slow, nowhere to be but here, appearing suddenly out of a patch of velvet dark where the lamp-light
broke and no longer shone. She looked for Raymel, itching now to see Darius’ studio.

Spring out and touch something.

You never could hear the sound of the ocean, she thought. Not from up here. You had to go all the way down, all the way across the sand, put your foot in, you hear it then.

Three days before her thirteenth birthday, AnnMarie took Central all the way up to the Nassau Expressway, waited for the flow of traffic to die, then hustled across the four-lane, leaving her neighborhood behind. She knew the shopping center was somewhere in Lawrence, where the sidewalks widened and the homes stood in neat rows, glass in all the windows, and grass that was green. Teisha had told her, take Central all the way. The whole while AnnMarie thought about Janet falling for Tupak, how she’d never get tired of that movie, that girl making her poetry, beautiful poetry to get around the sad feeling of life. A whole hour of walking until she saw the line of stores stretching out before her and she quickened her pace, excited now to have arrived, icy money ready to be spent.

She moved past planter boxes and colorful awnings, white ladies pushing strollers, sipping ice tea out of plastic cups. Glancing in all the big plate windows, she saw cream-colored mannequin girls with narrow waists and pointy breasts. Designer clothes, starched and tagged and beautiful. Perfume and candles, jewelry, candied apples, chocolate and stuffed animals. Up ahead some kids lounged outside a ice-cream shop, one of the girls giving her the eyeball, but AnnMarie just strolled on by thinking, Bitch, fuck you, I got money in my sock. She found the store Teisha had told her about called Madeline’s, went inside and spent a hour trying on clothes. A salesgirl hovered near the changing room, making
sure she ain’t try to steal nothing. AnnMarie didn’t care. She had cash money. Bought herself a brand-new pair of Diesel jeans size 2, hot pink Glitter Girl T-shirt and a black satin hoodie with the bright blue snake coiled around the left sleeve. Left off Madeline’s, walked into the shoe store she’d passed on her way in, tried on a pair of Tims. Almost bought the pink to match her T-shirt, then changed her mind and got the Classic.

At Niki’s house, she stripped out of her clothes and put on the outfit, head to toe, Niki watching the whole while, saying, Yeah, yeah … Girl, that hoodie is crack.

Word, you think so …? AnnMarie turned, looking at herself in the mirror. A ripple of excitement rose up and made her laugh.

Mm-hm, she said. Those jeans too. You a It Girl now.

Niki leaned back on the bed, tossing her loose curls while AnnMarie waited for her to crack stupid but she didn’t. She kept looking, halfways smiling and AnnMarie felt self-conscious all of a sudden so she cut her eyes away, unzipping the hoodie, saying, You want to try it on?

Hell yeah, Niki said, hopping up. She slipped it on, her fingers running down the snake. This look sick—you got the fashion sense, AnnMarie, true dat. I’ma make you my stylist.