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  PRAISE FOR THE DRAMA HIGH SERIES

  “The teen drama is center-court Compton, with enough plots and sub-plots to fill a few episodes of any reality show.”

  —Ebony magazine on Drama High: Courtin’ Jayd

  “You’ll definitely feel for Jayd Jackson, the bold sixteen-year-old Compton, California, junior at the center of keep-it-real Drama High stories.”

  —Essence magazine on Drama High: Jayd’s Legacy

  “Edged with comedy and a provoking street-savvy plot line, Compton native and Drama High author L. Divine writes a fascinating story capturing the voice of young black America.”

  —The Cincinnati Herald on the Drama High Series

  “Filled with all the elements that make for a good book—young love, non-stop drama and a taste of the supernatural, it is sure to please.”

  —THE RAWSISTAZ Reviewers on Drama High: The Fight

  “…A captivating look at teen life.”

  —Harriet Klausner on Drama High: The Fight

  “If you grew up on a steady diet of saccharine Sweet Valley novels and think there aren’t enough books specifically for African American teens, you’re in luck.”

  —Prince George’s Sentinel on Drama High: The Fight

  “Through a healthy mix of book smarts, life experiences, and down-to-earth flavor, L. Divine has crafted a well-nuanced coming-of-age tale for African-American youth.”

  —The Atlanta Voice on Drama High: The Fight

  “Drama High has it all…fun, fast, addictive.”

  —Cara Lockwood, bestselling author of Moby Clique

  Also by L. Divine

  THE FIGHT

  SECOND CHANCE

  JAYD’S LEGACY

  FRENEMIES

  LADY J

  COURTIN’ JAYD

  HUSTLIN’

  KEEP IT MOVIN’

  HOLIDAZE

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Drama High, Vol. 10

  CULTURE CLASH

  L. Divine

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  To my stepmother, Enola Thompson-Logan, who always sent me home with something sweet to eat. And to my stepfather, Ricky Haskin, who always brought us groceries when he was courting my mother. The universe has blessed me twice with stepparents who love me like their own child. You both are a blessing, and I am eternally grateful for your love and support.

  And a very special thank-you to Lauren Cherrington, a good friend of my mother’s who let me sleep on her couch when my daughter and I needed a place to stay. Your generosity helped us through a very difficult period, and for that I will always be grateful. To our midwives: Jane and Sheila. We were from very different cultures and backgrounds, but our present is the same. I can’t thank you enough for your compassion, patience, and open hearts. And to Lana Brown, for being the most sincere homegirl I’ve known in a long, long time. Welcome to mamahood, Ms. Brown!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To my publisher, Dafina/Kensington—thank you for your continued faith in the series. Ten down, thirty-four to go! To my agent, Brendan Deneen—thank you for taking my smack talking and turning it into progressive action. To my readers—thank you always for supporting Jayd and her stories. And to my babies—thank you for giving me the strength to live our culture freely.

  THE CREW

  Jayd

  A sassy sixteen-year-old from Compton, California, who comes from a long line of Louisiana conjure women. She is the only one in her lineage born with brown eyes and a caul. Her grandmother appropriately named her “Jayd,” which is also the name her grandmother took on in her days as a voodoo queen in New Orleans. She lives with her grandparents, four uncles, and her cousin Jay. Jayd is in all AP classes and visits her mother on the weekend. She has a tense relationship with her father, whom she sees occasionally, and has never-ending drama in her life, whether at school or home.

  Mama/Lynn Mae

  When Jayd gets in over her head, her grandmother, Mama, is always there to help her. A full-time conjure woman with magical green eyes and a long list of both clients and haters, Mama also serves as Jayd’s teacher, confidante, and protector.

  Mom/Lynn Marie

  At thirty-something years old, Lynn Marie would never be mistaken for a mother of a teenager. Jayd’s mom is definitely all that and with her green eyes, she keeps the men guessing. Able to talk to Jayd telepathically, Lynn Marie is always there when Jayd needs her.

  Netta

  The owner of Netta’s Never Nappy Beauty Shop, Netta is Mama’s best friend, business partner, and godsister in their religion. She also serves as a godmother to Jayd, who works part-time at Netta’s Shop.

  Esmeralda

  Mama’s nemesis and Jayd’s nightmare, this next-door neighbor is anything but friendly. She relocated to Compton from Louisiana around the same time Mama did and has been a thorn in Mama’s side ever since. She continuously causes trouble for Mama and Jayd. Esmeralda’s cold blue eyes have powers of their own, although not nearly as powerful as Mama’s.

  Rah

  Rah is Jayd’s first love from junior high school, who has come back into her life when a mutual friend, Nigel, transfers from Rah’s high school (Westingle) to South Bay. He knows everything about her and is her spiritual confidant. Rah lives in Los Angeles but grew up with his grandparents in Compton like Jayd. He loves Jayd fiercely but has a girlfriend who refuses to go away (Trish) and a baby-mama (Sandy). Rah is a hustler by necessity and a music producer by talent. He takes care of his younger brother, Kamal, and holds the house down while his dad is locked up and his mother strips at a local club.

  Misty

  The word “frenemies” was coined for this former best friend of Jayd’s. Misty has made it her mission to sabotage Jayd any way she can. Living around the corner from Jayd, she has the unique advantage of being an original hater from the neighborhood and at school.

  KJ

  He’s the most popular basketball player on campus, Jayd’s ex-boyfriend, and Misty’s current boyfriend. Ever since he and Jayd broke up, he’s made it his personal mission to persecute her.

  Nellie

  One of Jayd’s best friends, Nellie is the prissy princess of the crew. She is also dating Chance, even though it’s Nigel she’s really feeling. Nellie made history at South Bay by becoming the first Black Homecoming princess and has let the crown go to her head.

  Mickey

  The gangster girl of Jayd’s small crew, she and Nellie are best friends but often at odds with each other, mostly because Nellie secretly wishes she could be more like Mickey. A true hood girl, she loves being from Compton, and her man with no name is a true gangster. Mickey and Nigel have quickly become South Bay High’s newest couple.

  Jeremy

  A first for Jayd, Jeremy is her white ex-boyfriend who also happens to be the most popular cat at South Bay. Rich, tall, and extremely handsome, Jeremy’s witty personality and good conversation keep Jayd on her toes and give Rah a run for his money—literally.

  Mickey’s Man

  Never using his name, Mickey’s original boyfriend is a troublemaker and always hot on Mickey’s trail. Always in and out of jail, Mickey’s man is notorious in her hood for being a coldhearted gangster, and loves to be in control. He also has a thing for Jayd, but Jayd can’t stand to be anywhere near him.

  Nigel

  The new quarterback on the block, Nigel is a friend of Jayd’s from junior high and also Rah’s best friend, making Jayd’s world even smaller at South Bay High. Nigel is the star football player and dumped his ex-girlfriend at Westingle (Tasha) to be with his new baby-mama-to-be, Mickey. Jayd is caught up in the mix as a friend to them both, but her loyalty lies with Nigel because she’s known him lon
ger and he’s always had her back.

  Chance

  The rich, white hip-hop kid of the crew, Chance is Jayd’s drama homie and Nellie’s boyfriend, if you let him tell it. He used to have a crush on Jayd and now has turned his attention to Nellie.

  Bryan

  The youngest of Mama’s children and Jayd’s favorite uncle, Bryan is a dj by night and works at the local grocery store during the day. He’s also an acquaintance of both Rah and KJ from playing ball around the hood. Bryan often gives Jayd helpful advice about her problems with boys and hating girls alike. Out of all of Jayd’s uncles, Bryan gives her grandparents the least amount of trouble.

  Jay

  Jay is more like an older brother to Jayd than her cousin. Like Jayd, he lives with Mama but his mother (Mama’s youngest daughter) left him when he was a baby and never returned. He doesn’t know his father and attends Compton High. He and Jayd often cook together and help Mama around the house.

  CULTURE CLASH

  Contents

  Prologue

  1 Black Girls

  2 The Administration

  3 Pride and Prejudice

  4 So Fine, So Furious

  5 Bunny Boilers

  6 Not the Mama

  7 Survivors

  8 Culture Shock

  9 I’m Not

  10 A Hot Mess

  Epilogue

  A Reading Group Guide

  Discussion Questions

  Prologue

  This weekend was the first one in a long time I spent hanging with my crew. After our hellish holidays it was nice being back to normal with my friends. Well, all except for my ex Rah. He’s completely lost his mind if he thinks allowing his daughter’s mother, Sandy, to be under house arrest at his house is the way to go. If it weren’t for his daughter, I know he would’ve had no problem letting her trifling ass be prosecuted to the full extent of the law for stealing his grandfather’s car.

  I just got my conditioner set in my hair for the next thirty minutes. I feel like cooking a big breakfast this morning, but it’ll be nothing like the spread Mama made for me yesterday. My memory’s still coming back from our collective vision quest Friday evening. I walk into the kitchen and check the fridge for some food. As usual, there’s nothing in here to cook. Damn. I hope there’s at least some grits in the cabinet. My mom loves hot cereal and so do I.

  I check the cabinet and find what I’m looking for, but not before I’m interrupted by someone at the front door. Who’s this knocking so early on a Sunday morning? Maybe it’s my neighbor Shawntrese wanting to get her hair done before church. I look through the peephole and see Jeremy, my ex, looking back at me. What’s he doing here?

  “We’re making this pop-up thing a habit, aren’t we?” I say through the door, unlocking the multiple bolts and letting him in. Jeremy has seen me look all kinds of ways. Now he gets to see me with my plastic shower cap on and I could not care less. That’s what he gets for coming by unannounced.

  “Good morning to you, too, Lady J. I had to come check on you since you’re not returning calls,” he says, walking inside and kissing me on the forehead, but not before he looks at my shower cap and shakes his head in amusement. I haven’t even checked my phone this morning. I passed out when I came home from Nigel’s last night and put my phone on silent mode to make sure I stayed that way.

  “You want some grits?” I ask, sashaying back into the kitchen to finish cooking my breakfast. I open the freezer and find some protein to accompany my meal. Thank God for frozen food. Who knows how long these turkey sausages have been in here. In my opinion, they still look good enough to eat.

  “What’s a grit?” Jeremy asks, as serious as a heart attack. I turn around and look at him, shocked he’s unfamiliar with one of our staple foods. He’s a white boy, so I guess he’s not familiar with chitlins and pig’s feet either, although I haven’t had either one of those since I was a child.

  “How can you not know what grits are? Your mother’s from the South.” I gesture for Jeremy to sit at the dining room table while I get out the necessary tools needed to cook. I put water in both the pot and the skillet, ready to heat this small kitchen up.

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t cook everything Southern. My dad’s Jewish, remember? Some things we never got accustomed to, a grit being one of them.”

  “It’s not ‘a grit.’ You don’t just eat one,” I say, smiling at my silly friend. “And it’s like porridge made out of ground corn. Interested?” I begin pouring the white grains into the measuring cup, waiting for his response. From the look on his face, I’d say the answer is no.

  “I’ll pass.” His loss. I pour the cereal slowly into the boiling water and check on my sausages cooking in the skillet. This is going to be a slamming meal. “So, how was the dance?”

  “It was okay. I didn’t stay for long,” I say, mixing the cereal until it’s thick and smooth. I reach back into the refrigerator and pull out the butter. I take a knife out of the dish drainer and put about a tablespoon of butter into the grits and then sprinkle in some salt. All I need now is brown sugar to make this meal perfect. I have about five minutes before I need to rinse the conditioner out of my hair. I hope Jeremy wasn’t expecting my undivided attention this morning because I’m all about me right now.

  “And how was your Valentine’s Day?” he asks as I pour the grits onto a plate and place the sausages next to the cereal. I sit across from Jeremy at the table ready to dig in.

  “It was cool. I chilled with the crew, nothing special. And on Friday night I was busy with my family, so I was glad for the session last night,” I say, offering Jeremy a sausage. He takes it. Something about Jeremy’s eyes tells me that I’m missing something here.

  “You were so busy you couldn’t respond to my text about plans we had for the holiday?” His text? I forgot all about him asking me to be his valentine and about the stupid movie he wanted us to go see. But I can’t tell him the truth about why I didn’t remember until just now.

  “You seem to pick and choose your holidays, Jeremy. I’m sorry I was caught up, and I told you I didn’t want to see a horror movie anyway, especially not one as demeaning as the one you chose.” I continue eating without apology. If I told him that me, my mother, and my grandmother were busy fighting off Mama’s neighbor Esmeralda and my frenemy Misty in the spirit world because they were trying to steal my dreams, I don’t think he’d believe me.

  “How is a movie about voodoo dolls and shit demeaning to you, unless you’re a voodoo witch?” I stop in mid-bite and look into Jeremy’s eyes, now full of anger. He’s about to piss me and the women in my lineage off if we don’t end this conversation right now.

  “It’s priestess, not witch.” Did I just say that out loud? From the look in Jeremy’s pretty blues, I guess I did.

  “What’s the difference?” he asks, taking another sausage from my near-empty plate. I can feel the conditioner in my hair losing its minty tingle, indicating it’s about time for my rinse.

  “What’s the difference? I know you know better than that, Jeremy,” I say, finishing the last few bites of my breakfast. “A witch stems from European Wicca beliefs. Voodoo is African, and we are priests and priestesses, not sorcerers, witches, or any other name you might want to call us by.” I know Jeremy loves a good debate, but he can save it for our fourth period class tomorrow afternoon. This is not a conversation I want to have with him right now.

  “We? Us? Is there something you’re not telling me, Jayd?” Some things he’ll never understand and I’m not in the mood to teach him.

  “Yes, there is, and I’m going to continue not telling you as long as you have an attitude about it.” I look at the wall clock and realize I’ve gone over by one minute on my conditioner. “I have to rinse my hair. I’ll be right back,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin before rising to head back into the bathroom where I’ve set up hair shop.

  “Whatever, Jayd. Call me when you’re ready to be straight with me, without the attitude.” Je
remy gets up from the table and walks out of the apartment. What the hell just happened here? And why is he accusing me of having an attitude when he’s the one acting like a three year-old? Whatever the reason, it can wait until tomorrow, unlike my hair. I should’ve never answered the door. Maybe I can rinse away some of his negativity with my conditioner and start fresh tomorrow—no drama included.

  1

  Black Girls

  “Light skin, dark skin, my Asian persuasion/

  I got them all, that’s why these girls out here hatin’.”

  —JANET JACKSON

  For once, it’s good to be back at school. Stepping out of my car, I notice the air feels new this morning. I guess it’s because all of the bad things Misty did were undone when I took back my dreams, including me snatching her weaved head up, which resulted in me going to counseling even though it won’t go on my school record because no one remembers. It’s nice to have received the benefits of the mandatory week of anger management counseling I had to endure without suffering the consequences. It’s also nice that Nellie, Mickey, and I are speaking again. I need my girls to make it through the long days at South Bay High.

  “What’s up, bitch?” Nellie asks as I approach my girls in the main hall. Now that I’m driving myself instead of taking the bus, I’m managing mornings better, so I don’t arrive on campus so early. And Nellie’s back to getting a ride with Mickey, as it should be.

  “Who you calling a bitch?” I ask, looking around for someone else. I know she’s not talking to me or Mickey, because those are definitely fighting words where we come from.

  “You, bitch.” If it weren’t for the smile on Nellie’s face I would think she was serious.