Holidaze Read online

  “Not until you tell me what that was all about, Jayd. Whenever you sleepwalk, it’s serious, girl, and you know it.”

  “Mama, I start a new semester tomorrow and I have to drive my mom’s stick shift all the way to Redondo Beach for the first time. I need sleep. Please, can we talk tomorrow?” Mama looks into my eyes and feels my pain.

  “Fine, but don’t forget any of it. I need details.” I’m sure she’s already got the summary in her mind. I wish I could forget, but this dream was too freaky. I’ve never dreamt of being someone else before. I hope that was the last time it happens. I have enough to deal with as it is. I just want to get through this day with as little trouble as possible. With new classes, Mickey and Nellie tripping, and Nigel still out because of his wounded shoulder, there’s going to be enough drama to deal with this morning as it is.

  1

  Walk on By

  “That’s all that I have left so let me hide/

  The tears and the sadness you gave me when you said goodbye.”

  —DIONNE WARWICK

  After this morning’s sleepwalking episode, I could barely get myself out of the bed, let alone dressed and ready to go. Luckily, I don’t have to get up as early as I did before my mom let me take her car, but six is still early in my book.

  Speaking of books, I forgot my backpack as I was rushing out the door this morning, which means my day’s not going to be easy at all, especially since we’re being issued new books and have to take them home to cover.

  I’m not excited about my new class schedule because not much has really changed. That’s one of the major problems with being on the Advanced Placement track: the monotony is grueling and there’s also the added curse of having to deal with Mrs. Bennett’s evil ass. With any luck, I won’t run into her or Misty today. That would make the day tolerable.

  “Damn it,” I say aloud while attempting to shift the car into first gear on the steep hill near campus. There aren’t many hills between Compton and Inglewood, so I never got to practice balancing the clutch in various situations. Where’s Rah when I need him? He hasn’t talked to me since his ex Sandy took off in his grandfather’s car with Rahima. I know he’s pissed, but it really wasn’t my fault. How was I supposed to know she would make a copy of his car keys and jack Rah the first chance she got?

  “Because the bitch is crazy,” my mom says, feeling my frustration.

  “Mom, you can’t call her a bitch. She’s young enough to be your daughter,” I think in response while still trying to work my way up the hill without rolling back too far. The cars behind me are honking at my slow progression, but I don’t care. I’d rather they be mad at me than hit anyone. All I need is to have an accident. My mom would never let me live that down. More than likely I would also find myself back on the bus, and I’m not having that.

  “You worry too much, Jayd. And no, Sandy isn’t old enough to be a child of mine. That girl’s eighteen and a mother, therefore she’s fair game—and a bitch is a bitch, as I’m sure you already know.” My mom’s got a valid point. If there’s an official bitch club, Sandy’s got to be the president.

  “Can you help me drive this thing or what?” I say aloud. If the traffic weren’t so slow trying to get into the parking lot, I wouldn’t have this problem. I’ve experienced more stop-and-go traffic in the ten minutes I’ve been waiting in line here than my mother does on the 405 freeway during rush hour.

  “You have to learn how to navigate the road ahead in all situations, Jayd. Besides, it’s good for you to know how to drive a stick. It’s an irreplaceable skill to have. The first thing you need to do is calm down, little one, and put the car in neutral.” I follow my mom’s instructions and the car starts to slide backwards. “Put your foot on the brake, Jayd. Damn, girl, you always have to use your common sense.”

  “Mom, I had a very rough night. Please cut me some slack,” I say, near tears. I notice the new girl, Shawn, walking past me and looking at me like I’m crazy. I guess she heard that, and probably thinks I’m talking to myself. I don’t care what she thinks of me. As long as she keeps walking without saying shit, it’s all good.

  “Okay, I’m sorry. Now, ease off of the brake and apply an equal amount of pressure on the clutch before shifting into first gear. Then press slightly on the gas. If you do it right, the car should go up the hill smoothly.” At first the car lurches forward, but then I ease up on the clutch and simultaneously press on the gas pedal. It works smoothly, just like my mother said it would.

  “Thank you, Mom,” I think back.

  “That’s what I’m here for. Now, what about this rough night you had?” I pull up in line and feel like an old pro at driving a stick the way I’m handling the hill. I’m almost in a good mood for the first time in days and don’t want to mess it up thinking about my dream.

  “Mom, I really don’t want to go into that right now.” I’m next in line to get through the gate and really want to get on with my day. It’s bad enough Rah still hasn’t returned any of my calls or text messages since he picked up his Acura from my mother’s house yesterday. I want to know if he’s heard from Sandy. I know he feels like he’s the only one missing his daughter, but she left me too and I need to know if he’s heard from her crazy-ass mama.

  “Okay, fine. But I will remind you this weekend when I see you. Have a good day, baby, and let me know how your day went later on.”

  “Alright, Mom. You too,” I think back. I have to watch it, talking aloud to her when I’m in public. I already have a reputation as a voodoo girl, which is the truth. The last thing I need is the school thinking I’m a schizoid, too.

  “Hey, Jayd, new wheels again?” Jeremy asks from his car to mine, catching me off guard. Somehow he’s made his way beside me, putting his car in the perfect position to ease his way behind mine and be next in line to get through the gate. I guess being the most popular guy on campus has its advantages even before the school day officially begins.

  “Yeah, my mom had sympathy on me and let me roll her car until I get some more wheels of my own.” I haven’t heard from my daddy since I left the dilapidated vehicle he bought me for Christmas in his driveway Saturday night, and don’t expect to hear from him anytime soon. I know he’s pissed and his ego’s shattered. It’ll take awhile for him to come around and call me this time.

  “Sweet. So when are you taking me out, for a change?” I’m still irritated with Jeremy for the way he didn’t react when I told him about Nigel and Tre getting shot last week, but what can I expect? His reality is surfing all day and living the life of luxury, while mine is making potions with my grandmother and dodging the occasional bullet. We exist in two different worlds.

  “One day,” I say as I pull into the lot to find a spot. Jeremy’s right behind me, ready to get on with this school day as well. I don’t know how I’m going to stay focused. But as Mama says, the day will pass whether I participate in it or not. So, we’ll just have to wait and see how it goes, because right now I feel like time is passing me right on by and that’s not good.

  My first two classes haven’t changed, and they went by without incident. But there was one mistake with my schedule. They registered me in a non-AP speech and debate elective when I should’ve been registered in the AP journalism class. They usually do this when there’s a class cancellation, but I’d rather make my own adjustments than have them made for me. I requested a meeting time to talk to my counselor, Mr. Adelizi, about the change, but as busy as it was in the main office this morning, I doubt I’ll get to see him today.

  While I was in the main office this morning, I ran into Ms. Toni, the ASB teacher, and gave her a quick hug before she had to run off to a meeting. She’s been so busy lately we haven’t had time to catch up on all that’s happened. I know she’s still a little pissed at me for participating in Mickey’s downfall, and consequently losing my part as Lady Macbeth, but there’s still love there for me and I can feel it. She also mentioned she wanted to talk to me about Nigel’s shooting.
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  I’m sure Ms. Toni still has questions regarding Laura’s accusation about me choking her up with my special spray, and how I got my part back on opening night of the play. It is true: I did make a potion to get my crown back, but Laura can never prove it. Telling Ms. Toni about my powers isn’t an option, but letting her in on my lineage may be okay. Mama wouldn’t be happy to know that someone in the administration knows all about our work, but who we are is no secret. I have to tell Ms. Toni something when she asks, even if it isn’t the whole truth.

  “Can I walk the lady to class?” Rather than look for someone new to hang with at break, I’ve decided to chill in the library until further notice. I guess Jeremy figured this out and came looking for me, which is nice, but still not enough to make me forget about his non-reaction to my friends’ drama.

  “Okay, since we’re both going to the same place anyway,” I say. He takes my books from my hands and tucks them under his right arm. We walk in silence away from the media center where the library is housed and toward our government class. Jeremy looks down at me, waiting for me to say something, but if I speak first the words won’t be so nice.

  “What’s up with you this morning? Did I do something wrong?” I look up at Jeremy and realize just how clueless he really is. Who knew boys could be so naïve?

  “It’s not so much what you did as what you didn’t say.”

  Jeremy shakes his thick brown curls and gives an exasperated sigh. I know I’m a bit much for him sometimes, but no one said friendship was easy.

  “Okay, what was it this time?” The bell rings and students start to leisurely rise from their seats and join us in our trek to class. Third period is my least favorite, and will remain that way until Mrs. Peterson is gone permanently. I thought she was retiring at the end of last semester, but it seems the old crow’s going to wait out the rest of the school year. Lucky us.

  “Look, the last thing I want to do is argue with you, Jeremy. We’re just different people and I accept that. There’s no need to go into it any further.” I look around at a few students staring at us as we walk on by. They’re probably wondering if we’re back together. That’s how rumors start.

  “What the hell are you talking about? What could I have possibly done between now and the last time we talked two days ago?” He stops in front of our classroom, looks down at me, and puts my books behind his back as if he’s going to hold them hostage until I give him the information he wants. Of all the days to forget my book bag. Well, at least I only have to carry them to the car and not from one bus stop to another. That would suck. Papa Legba, my father Orisha, does have some mercy on me.

  “Can we get into this some other time? We have to get inside before the tardy bell rings. You know Mrs. Peterson would love to mark us both for being late while we’re standing right in front of her door.” I think she heard me because she looks up from her newspaper and scowls at me before taking a sip of her coffee. I wonder if her drink is as bitter as she is.

  “Jayd, I hate it when you do this. How can you give me the cold shoulder without telling me what I did to deserve it? That’s not fair.”

  “Fair? Who said anything about life being fair? One of my best friends was shot a few days ago while another one died, not to mention that I’ve lost both of my homegirls over some bull. And another one of my friends got his daughter and car jacked at the same time by his crazy-ass baby mama, who he was trying to help. Fair my ass,” I say, walking past Jeremy and into the classroom, leaving him standing in the doorway under the ringing bell. I know that was a lot of information to drop in his lap and he didn’t deserve all that, but he kept pressing me and I haven’t had much sleep lately. I was liable to snap any minute and Jeremy just happened to be the one there at the time to vent on.

  I feel slightly relieved letting it out, but not completely satisfied. Now I feel bad, especially with the look on Jeremy’s face from where he’s still standing with his mouth open. He can keep the damned books for all I care. I’m not feeling this day anyway and we still have three more classes to get through after this one. Hopefully, second-semester business will take up the majority of the day and I can skate through the remainder without having to pay it too much attention. I take my seat and start flipping through the new textbook.

  “Miss Jackson, did you hear me?” Mrs. Peterson asks as I turn around to face her. All eyes are on me as our teacher waits for my response.

  “Yes, Mrs. Peterson. I’m sorry,” I lie, because I didn’t hear a damned thing she said before she snapped me out of my thoughts a second ago. Jeremy looks at me and I can see the worry in his eyes. I guess now he’s coming to understand how serious it is when a friend gets shot. I didn’t even tell him it was Rah’s baby-mama drama that I was speaking of before because he wouldn’t understand that either.

  “Well then, why aren’t you moving? Come get your pass and go on to the counselor’s office.” Damn, I didn’t hear any of that, but I’m glad to get out of here for the rest of the period. All we’ve been doing is looking through our new textbook and class syllabus. Talk about monotonous. My counselor must have time now to help me get the class I want.

  “Jayd, I’m sorry for not saying I’m sorry about what’s going on with your friends earlier.” Jeremy’s blue eyes look mournful as he gently caresses my hand with his fingers. I know he’s sorry, but I don’t know if that’s enough. I need someone to feel me right about now and I just don’t think he can.

  “I appreciate that,” I say, gathering my books and papers before getting up from my desk. “I’ll holla later.” My phone vibrates in my purse and I look down at it, hoping and praying that it’s Rah, but it isn’t. It’s my calendar, reminding me to call and schedule a doctor’s appointment. Mama must’ve had Bryan program it after I went back to sleep this morning, because I know she didn’t do it. She’s not funny. What do I need to go to the doctor for?

  “I don’t know, but it must be serious if Mama’s telling you to go. You know if she can’t figure out what’s wrong with you she’ll find someone who can. You’d better listen to her, Jayd,” my mom says, committing a mental drive-by of her own before I can comment back. As if I need another thing to think about this morning.

  When I reach the main office, there’s a long line in front of most of the counselors’ offices, including Mr. Adelizi’s. Rather than join the procession of anxious students who either forgot to request changes in their schedule before the deadline or students—like me—who did, but still got screwed up in one way or another, I look at the available class list posted outside of his open door.

  “Miss Jackson, come on in and have a seat. The rest of the students don’t have a pass,” Mr. Adelizi says. The pensive student seated across from him looks up from his schedule to give me a once-over and then back down like he’s about to cry. He reminds me of a disgruntled postal worker, so I’d better make this visit quick just in case he decides to go off. I sit in the other chair across from Mr. Adelizi’s desk in the cramped office, and explain my situation.

  “Mr. Adelizi, I don’t know what happened, but somehow my fourth period journalism class got bumped for speech and debate, and it’s not even on the Advanced Placement track. There must be some mistake.”

  “Well, good morning to you, too,” he says, trying to make me smile, but I’m not in the mood this morning. “So serious so early?”

  “This is serious business. I can’t afford to get off track.” Mr. Adelizi looks at me over his thin-framed glasses and sees I’m in no mood for small talk.

  “Miss Jackson, your schedule won’t work if you choose to take the journalism class, which was moved to fifth period.” He’s right. I’d have to give up drama and that’s never going to happen.

  “Well, can’t I have a study period or something instead?” I really don’t like the idea of being in a speech class open to all tracks. It leaves the door open for too many unknown variables, like having Misty and KJ as classmates, and that just won’t work.

  “Sorry
, Jayd, but study periods are for seniors only. The only classes available that will fit into your Advanced Placement schedule are speech and debate, or home economics: it’s your choice.”

  “Fine, speech and debate it is,” I say, signing my schedule before getting up to leave.

  “Debate class starts tomorrow, so you’ll have a free fourth period for today.” A free period means we have to check in at the library and spend our time studying, which is just fine with me. Normally, I wouldn’t mind being in a debate class, but being outside of the AP track is always tricky, because the environment is less controlled than it would normally be. But I have to enroll in another elective, and home economics ain’t it. I get enough of that subject living with Mama.

  “You know, Jayd, you can talk to me about other things. I’m not just an academic counselor,” Mr. Adelizi says. I look down at the schedule printout and notice there’s no teacher listed for the debate class. Damn, another unknown variable. I can’t stand it when that happens. “We heard about the shooting and I know all about your friend Mickey being transferred to the continuation school. You must be having a tough time adjusting to all of this change.”

  “The only constant in the world is change,” I say, borrowing lyrics from India. Arie, leaving Mr. Adelizi to ponder how a little black girl could be so insightful when I know the thought is far from original. If I know anything to be true, it’s that statement and, like all the members of our tribe, we keep moving through the change, no matter how painful the move may be.

  Driving back to Compton from my high school in Redondo Beach is a pretty straight shot. You never know how many unnecessary stops there are on a bus route until you take an alternate path. I’m also looking for the roads less travelled when it comes to me learning this clutch. Mazda never lied when they made zoom-zoom their motto: this little Protégé’s got spunk. The last thing I want to do is accidently hit someone while trying to balance the gas and the clutch like I did this morning before my mom intervened.