Pushin' (19 page)

A Reading Group Guide

 

 

Drama High, Volume 12:

 

PUSHIN'

 

L. Divine

 

 

ABOUT THIS GUIDE

The following questions are intended to
enhance your group's reading of
DRAMA HIGH: PUSHIN'

by L. Divine.

1. Mickey and Nigel have decided to be a couple despite the inevitable challenges that come with being teenage parents. Do you think it's a good idea, especially now that we know that Nigel is not the father of Mickey's baby?
   
2. Now that Chance knows his true lineage, is he responding the right way? Should he change his name to his birth name, Chase, or stick to Chance?
   
3. Is Jayd taking on more than she can handle with her new responsibilities coupled with her spirit work, her job, and her side hustle? If she has to choose between them, which ones should she keep and which should she let go?
   
4. Is Jeremy right to be jealous of Jayd's friendships with Rah and Mr. Adewale?
   
5. Have you ever considered becoming a debutante? Why or why not? Do you think it's a good idea for Jayd to be involved?
   
6. Is Mrs. Esop a good role model for Jayd? Do you think Jayd should become more active in the sorority that is sponsoring her?
   
7. If you could absorb your friend's pain, would you?
   
8. If you could choose one of the Williams women's gifts of sight, which would you choose, and why? What would you do with your powers?
   
9. Do you have any meddlesome and antagonistic neighbors like Esmeralda? Do you sympathize with them or do you want them to move out?
   
10. Is Rah right to kick Sandy out? Should he give her one more chance or let her go for good? Why or why not?
    

When it's that time of the month, try natural remedies to ease your discomfort. For example, drinking raspberry tea eases cramps, and chamomile tea relaxes you. Essential oils, herbal teas, and elevating your legs while lying down are time-proven solutions. A heating pad and sprinkling lavender oil around the room works wonders, too. Get plenty of rest and relax. As my grandmother would say to me, “This too shall pass,” and it always does.

Stay tuned for the next book in
the DRAMA HIGH series,
THE MELTDOWN

 

Until then, satisfy your DRAMA HIGH craving
with the following excerpt from the next
exciting installment.

 

ENJOY!

M
y mom always keeps an ink pen and pad in her glove compartment in case she needs to write something down while in the car. Now that I'm the main driver for her aging Mazda Protegé, I use the tools to write about anything significant that may have happened in my day before I forget, no matter where I am, which in this case is in the parking lot of Ralphs grocery store in the Ladera Center. We're not too far from Rah's house, also the scene of my latest chick fight with Rah's ex-girlfriend, Sandy. I can't believe she let me inside of her mind—after she manhandled me—and that I got her to give up their daughter, Rahima, and finally move out of Rah's house. He owes me big-time for handling his baby-mama drama for him.

I've been using my mom's powers like crazy, learning how to master them but still not able to control my dreams, which is where my true power lies. It's crazy, I know, but not crazier than Mama going off on her sons earlier this afternoon. Now that was some serious drama, and on Mother's Day, too. She and Netta left to cool Mama's head. It's bad enough she has to live with my trifling uncles every day of the week, but the one day of the year they should be grateful to her, one of them screwed it up by burning up the new stove my mom and I bought her. Mama made it perfectly clear that she's had it, and I'm with her.

Rah had to run inside the market for diapers on our way to pick up Nigel, and he took Rahima with him. Mickey's waiting for us, at the hospital, even if we can't stay long because it's getting late. Nigel's going to spend the night at the hospital with Mickey and her new baby, and his dad will pick him up in the morning. And since Rah's car is already there, I really just have to drop him and his daughter off, say hi to Mickey and my goddaughter, and call it a night. This has been one of the longest days of my life, and as such calls for a good night's sleep. Even with school in the morning, it's the last month before summer and I couldn't be happier. We all need a break from the madness that is Drama High.

W
hen Rah, Rahima, and I arrive at Nigel's house, Mrs. Esop is enjoying the sunset from her garden view on the front porch. Great. Another tough broad to deal with, but I actually respect this one, even if I don't feel like socializing today. I just want to bless my godchild one more time and go home.

“Jayd, it's lovely to see you, my dear,” Mrs. Esop says, rising from the patio chair to give me a hug. “And look at this little princess. Rahima looks more and more like you every day, Raheem.” And she's right. Rah couldn't deny his namesake if he tried, not that he ever would. After all the hell he's been through, first trying to find his daughter the first time Sandy ran off, and then once again after he did find her. Rah loves his daughter with all he's got and then some.

Mrs. Esop squeezes Rahima's cheeks gently, making the little girl smile and hide behind her daddy. She can play that shy role all she wants, but I know Rahima's a natural born ham and deserves all the attention she can get.

“Thank you, and happy Mother's Day,” Rah says, handing Mrs. Esop a box of Godiva chocolates he just purchased on our pit-stop, and from the look on her face, she's very pleased. What girl doesn't love chocolates?

“Oh, baby, you didn't have to do that, but I'm so glad you did,” Mrs. Esop says, taking the gold box and hugging her play-son. Since Rah's mom isn't around—even on her own holiday—Mrs. Esop's always there for him. “Rah, there are some fresh cookies on the counter. Why don't you give Rahima one while you wake up my son, who's asleep on the living room couch? Jayd, how are you enjoying this lovely Sunday?” she says, expertly excusing Rah from our conversation. I'm too tired for this, but it doesn't look like I have much of a say in the matter.

“I'll be back in a minute, Jayd,” Rah says, taking the not so-subtle hint and heading through the front door hand in hand with his toddler.

“Jayd, aren't you glad that wasn't you in labor this morning?” Mrs. Esop asks, sipping her tea and gesturing for me to join her in the chair across from hers. It must be nice to pass the time in luxury. If she only knew I actually did share the labor with Mickey, she'd eat her words.

“Yes, ma'am. But Mickey handled it like a pro.” Why I just lied, I don't know. But I feel obligated to stand up for my girl because I know where this conversation is going.

“You look a little troubled, Jayd. Everything okay?” I checked myself in the visor mirror when I got in the car, but haven't had a chance to fully recoup from my run-in at Rah's.

I hate it when a trick pulls my hair. It messes up the entire flow of my ponytail.

“Sandy moved back to her grandparents' house. I helped her pack,” I say, still unable to process the thought. Is Sandy really gone for good? I know Mrs. Esop knows I'm lying about helping Sandy. Everyone knows we aren't friends, but I'm not going to tell Mrs. Esop I was in another fight. She thinks I'm growing into a nice young lady and I'm trying. But bitches are everywhere and sometimes they have to be dealt with properly.

“Ah,” Mrs. Esop says, taking one of the freshly cut pink roses from the clear vase on the table, bringing it to her nose and inhaling deeply. “Girls like Sandy are never gone for good, Jayd. Mark my words—that girl will be back.” Mrs. Esop looks at me, her brown eyes narrowing at the truth in her words. I know she's not fully aware of my powers, but she knows Mama and our lineage so I know she knows more than she's not saying.

“Nigel will be out in a second,” Rah says, stepping back onto the front porch with Rahima, who's happily munching on the baked treat. “Jayd, you ready to roll?”

“Yes, it is getting late and I know Mickey's wondering where we are,” I say as I rise from my seat. I lean back and steady myself on the glass table before nearly falling back into my chair, suddenly feeling light-headed. What the hell?

“Jayd, are you okay?” Rah asks, letting go of his daughter's hand and grabbing me by the arm, helping me catch my balance. Mrs. Esop rises and takes my other arm with a concerned look on her face.

“Sit down,” Mrs. Esop says, directing me to reclaim my seat, but I can't. The pounding in my head creeps from the back of my skull all the way to the front, dulling all other sounds around me. It feels like a brain freeze but much more painful. I look up at Mrs. Esop, who now appears to be Maman, my great-grandmother. I try to scream at the sudden visual transformation, with no success. Before I can let out a sound, Maman's gone and so is the pounding, but I still feel woozy. Between my lack of sleep, inadvertently sharing Mickey's labor, and dealing with Sandy's crazy ass I'm completely wiped out.

“What's going on?” Nigel says, stepping out of the open front door looking as exhausted as I feel.

“Jayd's not feeling well. Nigel, get her some water,” Mrs. Esops says, now forcing me to sit down, and I allow her to push me back into the chair. Maybe I do need to chill for a spell. Nigel walks back into the house and Rahima follows, undoubtedly going back for another cookie, completely oblivious to my issues. If life were only that simple for us all.

“I'm fine, really. I probably just need some rest.” What was that? I've never seen Maman so clearly outside of my dreams before. It was as if she took over Mrs. Esop's body for a moment, but I know that can't be.

“There's no probably about it, girl,” Rah says, feeling my forehead like Mama does when she hears me make the slightest sniffle. “You need to chill.”

“Maybe we should drop you off at home, Jayd. Mickey will understand,” Nigel says, placing a cool glass of water down on the table in front of me. I pick up the crystal cup with both hands and bring it to my lips, sipping slowly at first and then swallowing the rest in two large gulps.

“Thirsty, baby?” Rah asks, smiling down at me, but it's no joke. I feel like I ate a block of salt for dinner and Mama doesn't cook with that much sodium.

“Yes, I am.” I hand Rah the glass and he hands it to Nigel. “Can I have some more water, please?” They all look at me, amazed. It was a tall glass, but damn. Can't a sistah get something to quench her thirst?

“Okay, now I know something's wrong. I'm taking you home, now.” Rah uses both hands to check my temperature, now annoying me. I gently swat his hands away from my face and attempt again to rise from the chair. Mrs. Esop looks at me and then at Rah and I know what she's thinking—literally.

“Mrs. Esop, I can assure you I'm not pregnant with Rah's baby or anyone else's for that matter,” I say, steadying myself before letting go of the glass table. “I'm a virgin and plan on staying that way for a long time.”

“Jayd, how did you know that's what I was thinking?” Mrs. Esop's look of concern has turned into one of fear. She obviously knows I repeated her thoughts verbatim—all without focusing on cooling her mind and allowing me in, like I usually do with my mom's powers. It was as if she threw the thought my way and I unintentionally caught it. I have to get my mom's powers on lock and fast, before they get ahead of me.

“It was written all over your face,” I say, taking the cool drink from Nigel's hands, swallowing it down quickly and returning the empty glass to him. “We should get going if we're going to make it before visiting hours are over. We only have an hour left,” I say, glancing at Rah's wristwatch.

“The only place you're going is home,” Rah says, helping me off the porch and down the driveway where we're parked. “Don't worry about the car situation. We'll work it out.”

“Yeah, man. Drive her home. Mom, can I take your car?” Nigel asks. I know his mom wants to say no, but under the circumstances she reluctantly nods her head affirmatively. I wouldn't want to give up the Jaguar either.

“You guys don't have to do that. I can make it home,” I say and I can. “Thank you for the hospitality, Mrs. Esop, and I'll see you next weekend for the debutante meeting. The water was just what I needed to feel better.” Nigel and Rah look at each other and reluctantly follow me to my car, retrieving Rahima's car seat and letting me go.

“Feel better, Jayd,” Mrs. Esop says, staring at me strangely. I know she's tripping about sharing her thoughts with me, but what can I say? I didn't do it on purpose and I doubt I can do it again—at least not willingly. I have a lot to learn about my mom's gift of sight, and will read up on it more but not tonight. I just want to wash Sandy's fingerprint out of my hair, watch my Sunday night television shows and pass out on my mom's couch—no scary visions or crazy broads permitted.

R
ah and Nigel must've texted and called me fifty times on the way from Nigel's hood in Lafayette Square to my mom's apartment in Inglewood. It's not a long drive because both areas are off of Crenshaw Boulevard and it doesn't require much thought to get here. I understand their concern and sent them a message as soon as I pulled in a few minutes ago. I'm glad to have my mom's space to park in so I don't have to worry about walking down the block by myself late at night. Making it to the front door and up the stairs from the sunken carport is challenging enough.

“Hey, girl,” my mom says, surprising me as I open the multi-locked front door. What's she doing here so late? Usually she'd be with her man, Karl, especially after spending the day with us at Mama's house. Maybe he had dinner plans with his mom for the special day.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, closing the door behind me. From the looks of it, my mom came home to restock her clothes. She took the jar of quarters from her dresser and put them in one of the three laundry baskets on the living room floor. I guess she's finally run out of clean clothes. Although knowing my mom, she probably ran out weeks ago and just bought new ones to wear for the time being, which I'm sure got a little expensive.

I plop down next to my mom on the cozy couch, putting my purse on the coffee table and removing my sandals. I pick up my spirit notebook from the end table and flip through the pages. I should write down today's events, but I'm too tired to relive the drama.

“It's unprostitutional!” my mom says, shouting at the television. Tiger Woods and his hos have been all over the news for months and personally, I'm tired of the shit. If his wife wants to deal with his trifling behavior, why do I care what he does?

“Mom, is that even a word?” I ask, flipping through my spirit notes and trying to concentrate. I have a lot of work to catch up on, not to mention the personal things I want to focus on, even if I can't think straight. But with my mom here yelling at the television and sitting on my bed, I doubt I'll get to sleep anytime soon.

“It is if I say it is,” my mom says, reaching for the pretty gift basket my cousin Jay gave her for Mother's Day and pulling out a bottle of lotion. I feel for him not having either of his parents around. Even if Jay's mom did call earlier, it's rare for her to talk to Jay, or Mama for that matter. Mama's always silent about what happened between her and her younger daughter, but I know she thinks about her a lot and so does Jay.

“So how long do you plan on hiding the truth from Mama?” my mom asks during a commercial break from her gossip news show. Her gift sure does smell good. I wonder if she'll share.

“As long as I can. You know she's going to make me give the powers back, you can even do such a thing.” Stripping them away is more like it. Mama doesn't believe in me having more than my fair share of powers right now, limited to my dreams.

“You know it's not going to work for long, Jayd. The only reason she hasn't detected them yet is because she's so distracted with her initiations and stupid sons. You know she does a ritual to keep other people's madness out of her head while she's involved in the process, but as soon as she takes a break, she's going to hone in on your new development, and when she does, God help you.” Why does my mom always have to be so theatrical with her shit?

I reach for the large gold basket on the table and claim a small bottle of lemon oil to sample. All the products look and smell delicious. Jay gave Mama the same thing, plus flowers and a card. He sure can pick a nice gift.

“Mom, you worry too much. Like I said, I'll keep your sight in my head for as long as I can. Once I master it, Mama will be so proud of me she'll have to let me hold on to your reclaimed powers,” I say, massaging my hands and feet with the intoxicating liquid. I know Mama and Netta have the baddest beauty line available and my novice products aren't far behind theirs, but it's nice to try something different.

“Are we talking about the same Mama?” my mom asks, snatching the bottle away from me. “Mama doesn't have to do a damn thing. You know it and I know it. Hell, the whole damn world knows it, Jayd.” My mom rises from the couch and walks toward her bedroom. “You're playing with fire, little girl, hiding this from your grandmother. She's not going to be happy at all when she finds out you've been sitting on this for so long.” I get up from my comfy spot and follow her.

“I know, Mom. It'll be okay—you'll see,” I say, claiming a corner at the foot of her queen-sized bed. I wish I felt comfortable sleeping in her room when she's gone, but I'd rather be in the living room in case someone tries to break in. That way I can hear them walk up the stairs, and prepare myself ahead of time.

“I wish I could say the same thing for you, little one, but I can't.” My mom looks at me, worried that I've bitten off more than I can chew. “Jayd, how come you didn't tell me about you retaining this power from one of your dreams, especially since the sight you now possess once belonged to me?” I watch my mom sit down on her bed, and now I realize I've hurt her feelings. I didn't even know that was possible. She's usually so hard core. My mom looks at me, her emerald eyes tearing up. Now I really feel bad.

“Mom, I just didn't think you were interested.”

“Jayd, if it has anything to do with my baby, I'm interested. And besides, you can look in that book all you want. It's still not better than firsthand information when you can get it.” I never thought about it like that. My mom's got a good point, especially since there's limited information in the spirit book about my mom's path because she stopped keeping up with her notes in high school. I jog back into the living room, retrieve my notebook and pen, and again make myself comfortable on her bed.

“Okay, what you got?” I ask, happy for the night tutorial session. I can sleep after she's gone.

“Memories and regret.” That's the first time I've ever heard my mom express regret about anything short of marrying my dad.

Exactly,
she says in my mind.
Had I not been so hot-headed in the first place, I would still have my powers, and I was just getting good at them, too,
my mom continues, eyeing the disheveled room around her. When she left my dad seventeen years ago, she also left the house and everything in it.

“I'll help you keep my sight under one condition, Jayd. The next time you need help, ask. The last thing I want you to do is have a meltdown like I did.”

“It's a deal,” I say, smiling at my mom. She can be real sweet when she wants to be. But like Mama, me, and the rest of the women in our lineage, cross us and nice turns to nasty real quick. My uncle Kurtis is learning that lesson the hard way now.

“And you have to tell Mama,” my mom adds. “Now that I know, I'm an accomplice and I can't lie to Mama about this. Promise me that you'll tell her, Jayd.”

“That's two things,” I say, watching my mom get comfortable in her bed that she rarely uses. She pulls back the black and gold comforter, revealing gold satin sheets, and slides her dainty feet underneath.

“They go together, Jayd. And telling Mama sooner rather than later is of the utmost importance. Mama's got all kinds of tricks up her sleeve that you know nothing about. I hope you never have to find out what happens when one of her daughters crosses her.”

“I know, right. I'd hate to be Uncle Kurtis right now,” I say, getting under the oversized blanket from the opposite end of the bed.

“Mama can be as sweet as honey and as lethal as a rattlesnake when she wants to be. Listen to what I'm telling you, girl,” my mom says, fluffing a large pillow behind her head. “Don't push Mama too far or she will hurt you. It may be out of love, but it'll still hurt.”

“Okay, okay. I'll tell her,” I say, reaching for the small accent pillows on the other side of the bed and propping myself up, ready to learn. “Now, tell me everything you can remember about your ability to chill a person's mind out. It's a dope power to have, Mom.” My mom smiles at my enthusiasm and I'm glad to spend some time with her. Finally, she is choosing time with her daughter over her man, and I'm grateful for it.

“The first thing you need to learn is that everything has side effects, Jayd. Read the label carefully, which in our case is the spirit book. When you retained my vision from your dream, you should have looked for stories about things that happened to me after I started using my powers, not just the ways I used them. For example, the night I almost killed your father with my eyes when I tapped into his mind, witnessing his premarital infidelity firsthand,” my mom says, as cool as ice. “I scared myself I was so angry, and my powers almost got away from me.”

“You never told me about that,” I say, writing as fast as I can. I should've got a tape recorder for this lesson.

“Because you never asked. You should be much further along in your studies by now, Jayd. Even I know that.” She sounds just like Mama and Netta. I know I'm not on my game if my mom agrees with them. My mom and Netta have a tense relationship, but it's improved over time.

“But you know what a full plate I have, Mom. With cheer practice, the spring play, the debutante ball and being president of the African Student Union, I haven't had much time to study.”

“Like I said, everything has side effects.” My mom's right. Luckily the cotillion and the play are temporary. I'll have to find a better way to juggle the rest of my activities. My spirit work can't remain the primary sacrifice.

“The second thing you need to know is that cold things tend to be slippery, which can be both good and bad. When you want to easily access someone's mind and cool his or her thoughts immediately, it's a very good thing. But when the mind is too hot, it can tend to cause your cool to boil, causing a mental meltdown of sorts, and that can be very dangerous,” my mom says, pulling the comforter tighter. “I've literally almost drowned in someone else's negative thoughts before. I don't wish that feeling on anyone,” my mom says, shuddering at the memory. I'm shaking, and I don't even know what she went through, nor do I want to.

“Is that why women in our lineage are afraid of water?” I say, continuing my note taking.

“Partially, and also because we have a healthy respect for nature's power to build and destroy. Any type of drowning isn't fun.”

“I hear that.” I took swim lessons at the YMCA when I was ten years old and nearly drowned. Lifeguard or not, you won't catch my ass in deep water again.

“Those two lessons will go a long way when deciding whose thoughts to probe. Be careful who and when you try to help because as with Mickey's labor, the experience can turn on you like a pit bull. If you had known then what you know now, you would've never jumped into your friend's mind when you did.” My mom's right. I have a lot to learn about her powers and my own. And with a few more sessions like this one between me and my mom, a sistah will be back on her A game in no time, good sleep included.

 

My mom left late last night after we stayed up talking most of the time away. I fell asleep soon after and am grateful for the dreamless rest. I never did get to wash my hair last night, so I woke up early this morning to get a quick wash and blow-dry in before my school day begins.

I turn the hot-water knob and then the middle one to full blast, welcoming the steam. Showers wake me up every morning.

I step into the shower, closing the sliding glass doors. After bathing, I lather the shampoo, scrubbing my scalp good before massaging it through my hair. It always feels good getting a clean start in the morning. Rubbing the mango-scented lather into my tresses, my fingers suddenly feel like jelly and my head, cold. Am I dreaming? My fingers continue moving up my hair until I can no longer feel anything. Instead, my hair is feeling me.

“Aaah!” I scream, opening my eyes, allowing the soap and water on my face to cloud my vision. The fingers in my hair continue to walk their way down my scalp and around my neck, stifling my sound. Without the use of my hands, I'm defenseless against my strangler. If this were a dream I would try to wake up, or at least have Mama somewhere around to help me. But I'm wide awake experiencing this nightmare, and alone.

Water, Jayd. Use the water to rinse your eyes,
my mom says into my mind with panic in her voice. This shit feels too real to be a regular vision.

Near fainting, I turn around and rinse my face off in the water. The feeling slowly returns to my hands. I push my hair back and feel around my neck to loosen the ghostly grip, but I can't. The steam seeps up my nostrils, clearing my airways and melting the fingers around my neck.

That's it, Jayd. Inhale and then exhale. It's not real, baby. Mind over matter,
my mom says, helping to calm my nerves. Finally free, I reach for the metal knobs to turn off the water to end this nightmare on Larch Street, but not before I lose my footing and fall flat on my ass, hitting my head on the back of the ceramic tub.

“Ouch!” I say, rubbing my head in the same spot where I hit it falling on black ice in one of my dreams. It's already tender from that experience and now I've reopened that wound. What the hell is really going on?

It's like I told you last night, Jayd. You're holding on to the residual negative emotions from your clients. You have to get rid of it before it drives you crazy, and Mama's the only one who can tell you exactly what to do.
I hate it when my mom's right and I'm suffering the consequences in the midst of her revelation.
You have to tell Mama, Jayd
.
Now get yourself up and shake it off or you're going to be late for school.

“Can a sistah get a little sympathy?” I ask aloud, picking myself up and grabbing the towel from the back of the shower door to dry off. I guess I'll be wearing my hair wet today with some leave-in conditioner since my shower was cut short.