Upgrade U
Authors: Ni-Ni Simone
Also by Ni-Ni Simone
SHORTIE LIKE MINE
IF I WAS YOUR GIRL
A GIRL LIKE ME
TEENAGE LOVE AFFAIR
Published by Dafina Books
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40
th
Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2011 by Ni-Ni Simone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.
Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager: Attn.: Special Sales Department. Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40
th
Street, New York, NY 10018. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.
Dafina Books and the Dafina logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6815-0
eISBN-10: 0-7582-6815-7
First Printing: March 2011
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Printed in the United States of America
To my mom, my number-one cheerleader!
To Taylor, my thirteen-year-old sweetie,
who secretly thinks I’m cool!
To Sydney, my eight-year-old diva,
who thinks I’m the greatest mommy in the world!
To Zion, my three-year-old man,
who tells me he loves me twenty times a day!
To Korynn, who doesn’t hesitate to call me up
and say, “You have to change this,
no one says that anymore!” LOL
To Keisha, the forever teenager who doesn’t hesitate
to dream with me what it would be like
to be seventeen again!
To Ari, who appointed herself my fan club president and
then showed me how much she deserved it!
Love: Giving someone the ability to destroy your heart,
but trusting them enough not to …
—A
NONYMOUS
CKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I thank God for the gift, the determination to pursue the dream, and the opportunity to fulfill it.
To my parents, my family, church family, coworkers, and everyone who has ever supported me in my career—those seen and unseen—I thank you for all that you do and have done!
To my agent, Sara Camilli—thanks for being the best!
To Selena James and the Kensington family, thank you for this wonderful opportunity!
To the bookstores, online stores, libraries, and message boards, thank you, thank you, thank you for spreading the word and putting my books on the map!
To the schools that have included the Ni-Ni Simone series as a part of your reading programs, I thank you for your support and truly pray that my writings make a difference.
Saving the best for last, the fans! What author could ask for more? Thanks so much for being here to support my literary ventures and I sincerely hope to make you proud. Be sure to join the Ni-Ni Simone chat room at www.nini girlz.com, where we chat about books, Ni-Ni Girlz online magazine, and all sorts of hot topics!
By the way, I’d love to hear your thoughts on
Upgrade U,
so be sure to e-mail me at [email protected].
To become an official part of the Ni-Ni Simone fan club,
send an e-mail to [email protected] or visit ninisimone.com for details.
And to every teenager in the Big Easy, I wrote this one for you, bey-be!
Stay blessed!
Ni-Ni Simone
What’s higher than number one?
—B
EYONCÉ FT
. J
AY-Z,
“U
PGRADE
U
”
Stiles University, Big Easy, USA
“S
even, promise me you’ll call home every week. Okay? You hear me?” my mother said, as the tears she held back caused her words to tremble. She palmed my face softly between her hands and kissed my forehead. “I’m never too far away—”
“To tap dat azz,” Cousin Shake said as he walked into my dorm room, holding a stack of two cardboard boxes in his hands and nodding his head to the side for emphasis. “That’s what’s wrong witcha now, yo mama babies you too much. But see, I know your tricks, homie. And I know that you applied to a college far away from home, so you could get your hoochie off in peace”—he dropped the boxes on the floor—“but ain’t gon’ be no peace. ‘Cause I’m gon’ send somebody to keep a watch on you.”
“All right, Cousin Shake,” my mother said sternly. “
Grier,you know I love da kids,” Cousin Shake said, and as he spoke, the seat of his metallic gold MC Hammer pants flapped with every word. And the taco meat on his
chest—that he so proudly showcased by wearing no shirt beneath his matching gold vest—seemed to get tighter by the moment.Ugg, I just wanted him to leave!
“Why are you looking at me like that, Seven?” Cousin Shake said. “Huh? I’ll tell you why, ‘cause you know that I see right through you.”
“Cousin Shake, behave” was my mother’s failed attempt to get this sixty-year-old throwback to listen to someone besides himself.
“You don’t tell me to behave, Grier,” Cousin Shake admonished. “I raised you. Now, all I’m doing is making a point.”
“And what’s that?” I said with a little more edge than I should’ve.
“Watch your tone, Seven,” my mother warned. “What’s your point, Cousin Shake?”
“My point is”—he turned to me—“that just ‘cause you in the Big Easy, Seven, don’t mean you have to be the big easy. Feel me? I mean, you still big, but you don’t have to be all easy, greasy, and handing over your goodies to every Tom, Raheem, and Josiah, just ‘cause me and your mama’s up in Brick City.”
What?
“Cousin Shake,” my mother snapped. “That’s a bit much.”
“See?” Cousin Shake snorted. “That’s her problem—you spoil this girl too much.”
“This is my baby.” My mother hugged me tightly. “And she’s never been this far away from home or me before.”
“Ma, I’ll be fine.” After all, this wasn’t my first time in college. I went to Spellman for half a semester, until my stepfather lost his job and we had to move from Atlanta back to Jersey. But that didn’t last for too long, because I
was seriously on my grind. I was turning eighteen and had big dreams. Dreams that only going to college would afford me. So while my twin sister, Toi, stayed close to home and attended NJIT, I applied to Stiles U, and courtesy of my good grades and perfect SAT scores I was awarded a full academic scholarship. So me, along with my BFF, Shae—who also transferred from Spellman—arrived in the Crescent City ready to roll.
“I’m here!” Shae screamed running into our dorm room. She ran over to me and said, “Girl, it’s some cuties up in here, honey. Told you southern boys were the truth!”
Obviously Shae ran in here so fast she didn’t realize we weren’t alone. “Shae—”
“Seven,” she said, not letting me get a word in, “I couldn’t wait to shake my daddy at the gate. We got to the registration office and I was like, ‘Dad, seriously I got it from here. I handed my stuff to Big Country and waved bye-bye to Samuel Parker. Whew!” She wiped invisible sweat from her brow. “How’d you ditch your blockers?”
“She didn’t,” my mother said, causing Shae to halt in her spot.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” Shae mouthed, as she slowly turned around and gave my mother a small wave.
“I was trying to tell you to shut up,” I mumbled.
“Told you,” Cousin Shake said, wagging his finger at us. “From cute lil sweet Jersey girls to nasty Louisiana—”
“All right, Cousin Shake,” my mother said, as Shae walked over and gave her a hug. “These are good girls and New Orleans is one of the greatest cultural cities in the world.”
“Yawn,” Cousin Shake said, as if he could not care less.
“Mama!” poured from down the hall and toward our room. “Could you please stop trippin'? You acting like I’ve moved to Arizona, Utah, or California somewhere, I’m back home, in N’awlins. And from the time we stayed in Houston until I applied to go away to college, we’ve talked about this … over and over again….Dang.” Whoever this was, stopped in our doorway, looked up at the numbers on the door, and nodded her head like she was in the right place.The woman standing beside her wore the same look of sadness and worry that my mother did and the six-foot-tall man who stood behind them looked to be as bored as Cousin Shake.
“Wassup, round? How ya livin', yat? I’m Khya.” She batted her extended lashes and flipped her one-sided Rihanna-esque bob, with blond streaks running through it, from over her left eye to behind her respective ear. She placed her hands on what looked to be about a size-sixteen hips, complimented by a small waist and a rump shaker that would put Nicki Minaj to shame.
Khya continued on with her spiel. “Seems we already got two things in common: late acceptance and registration. ‘Cause according to the RA’s Facebook status”—she looked at her BlackBerry for a quick moment and then back to us—“that’s how they choose who was gon’ be sharing the triple dorms.”
Khya slammed her hot pink and floral Coach shoulder bag on top of a desk, and without missing a beat or taking a breath she continued, “It’s ‘bout to be crunk, ya heardz me? I can look at y’all and tell y’all good people. So since we ‘bout to be roommates, ya might as well hit ya girl with some introductions.”
True story: I didn’t know what the heck just blew in
here. Even Cousin Shake looked confused. This chick’s New Orleans accent was thicker than you could ever imagine or wrap your ears around hearing.
“Y’all must be from up north,” Khya said, “ ‘cause y’all lookin’ at me like ya slow. Now what’s good?”
Was that an insult?
I stopped my eyes from blinking and did my best to wipe the confused look off of my face. I walked over to her, with Shae beside me, and said, “Hey girl, I’m Seven and this is Shae.”
“Wassup, ma?” Shae said.
Khya blinked. “Oh my, y’all got some serious New York accents on y’all.”
Did she just talk about somebody’s accent? And she’s standing here sounding like Lil Wayne’s ex-wife, Toya.
“Actually, we’re from Jersey,” I said.
“Nawl,” Cousin Shake interjected. “Actually, we’re from Earth, where we speak English.”
“Oh, you so funny and cute.” Khya laughed. “You look just like 1982. Who is this, your great-granddaddy? He needed a walk or something, a day out of the home?”
“Yep,” I said, laughing. “That’s exactly who he is.”
“Be quiet, Seven.” My mother twisted her lips at me and then turned to Khya and her family and said, “I’m Grier, Seven’s mother, and this is my cousin, Cousin Shake.”
“I’m Toni.” Khya’s mother sniffed and dabbed the corners of her eyes. “Nice to meet you, and this is my husband, Kyle.”
“It’s hard, I know,” my mother said, and I could tell she was swallowing tears. “But we have to let them go.”
“I’ve been telling her this since forever,” Kyle said.
“I know, Kyle,” Toni said, with tears bubbling in her eyes. “But she’s my baby.”
“Oh, Toni,” my mother joined in, “I said the same thing.” She was now dabbing her eyes too.
“Looka here, Mama,” Khya said. “Listen, you call me tomorrow, okay? ‘Cause I really would like to get settled into my room.”
“Give me kisses first.”
“Mama!” Khya arched her eyebrows in embarrassment. “Would you stop?”
“Kisses,” her mother insisted.
“Mama, I’m not—”
“Get yo behind over there and kiss your mama, girl,” Cousin Shake growled. “And you too, Seven. Y’all better be lucky you got mamas, somebody that can tolerate you. ‘Cause I’ma tell you the truth, I don’t like kids, I fight ‘em. Now give me a reason to handle you”—he looked at Khya—“and I’ma show you what 1982 was really about. Now try me. Go kiss yo mama, like I said. And do it now, ‘cause I don’t have much time. I need to go and meet my wife Minnie. She’s at the hotel waiting for me, so we can get our flash on and get thrown some beads on Bourbon Street.”
I don’t know about anyone else, but the visual of Cousin Shake and Miss Minnie flashing anybody was about to make me throw up in my mouth.
Khya and I walked over to our mothers, hugged and kissed them, and as if they’d practiced it, they simultaneously said, “I love you. Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay.” Toni sniffed. “I’ma go now.”
“Me too,” my mother said. “Come on, Toni, we can walk out together.”
Khya gave her father a hug. “Don’t forget to get me some tickets for the basketball games, baby girl,” he said.
“Okay, Daddy.” Khya kissed her father on the cheek, and then he left. That’s when we realized that Cousin Shake was still there.
“You can leave too.” I tried my best not to snap, but the mere sight of him lingering around caused my blood pressure to rise.
“Who you talkin’ to, Fat Mama?” he growled, calling me by my childhood nickname. “Girl, don’t make me handle you. Now your mama may have ran outta here like she’s crazy, but I’m not leaving until we pray.”
Oh hell to da nawl!
“Cousin Shake, that won’t be necessary,” I insisted.
“What?” He frowned. “Don’t make me put my thang down on you. Since when you start refusing prayer?”
“You know how he is,” Shae mumbled. “Now let’s just bow our heads and get this over with.”
I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.
I grabbed Khya’s hand and said, “Come on, roommate, we in this together.”
Reluctantly we bowed our heads and Cousin Shake began. “Our Father, Who art in Heaven, wassup, bruh? How’s Julio, Mary, Margaret, Paul, Radio-Raheem, and er'-body? I know I ain’t been to You in a minute, Lawd, but You know, like Fat Joe says, ‘If it ain’t about money why we wastin’ time?’ ‘Cause moneeeeey’s,” Cousin Shake started to sing, “always on my mind. You can believe that I be where the G’s at—”
“Cousin Shake!” I said sternly.
“Who you yelling at?” he said. “You know when I get to talking about Julio, I get a lil carried away—”
“Who is Julio?” Khya whispered to me.
“Jesus,” I mumbled. “Just roll with it.”
“Oh my …”
“Now, Father,” Cousin Shake’s prayer continued, “please look over these girls and remind them of what Your word says, remind them of Your seven commandos.”
“It’s commandments,” Khya interjected, “and it’s ten, not seven.”
“You correcting me, Karate?”
“It’s Khya.” Khya attempted to enunciate her name for Cousin Shake, “K-Y, the
h
is silent, the
y
makes a long I sound, and then there’s the sound of ya. Khya.”
Cousin Shake moved his fingers as if he were speaking in sign language. “Are you cra-ay-zee, interrupting me during prayer time?” Cousin Shake snorted. “Let me tell you something, Cashew. Don’t sleep on me. I might be sixty-two, but I will bring it to you. Ya heardz me? Now, as long as you rooming with these two, then you part of the family. I’ma send you care packages, just like I’ma send them. I’ma send you a ten-dollar allowance just like they gon’ get.
“ ‘Cause in college I know y’all don’t have no money. And I’ma be here for you when you need me and to mess you up when you get outta line, but don’t try me. ‘Cause I’m lookin’ for a reason to unleash my aggression.” He squinted. “Word to the mother-son-cousin. Now bow yo dam’yum heads.”
“Just do it,” I whispered to Khya. “Trust me he only gets worse.”
We bowed our heads again.
“Like I said,” Cousin Shake went on, “Lawd, remind them of the five comrades: Thou shalt not bear thou goodies for nobody. Thou shalt not steal time away from thou homework to get thou skeezin’ on. Thou shalt not come home without calling first, because thou room will be
turned into a love den for Big Daddy Shake and his Minnie. Thou shalt get a J-O-B. And lastly, thou shalt know that Cousin Shake loves you and he will never be too far away if you need him.” He sniffed. “Hallelujah. Amen.”
Was he crying?
Ugg! Just when I couldn’t stand him, he acts human. “Awwl, Cousin Shake, I love you too!” I said, giving him a hug.
“Me too!” Shae joined in.
“Me three!” Khya said, completing our group hug.
A few seconds later, Cousin Shake said, “All right, get up off me now. Minnie don’t like too much perfume in my taco meat.”
Yuck! I promise you I couldn’t stand him. He walked toward the door and hit us with a two-finger peace sign. “Deuces,” he said and a few minutes later he was gone.
