Courtin' Jayd Read online

  My first two periods went by okay except for the fact that Mrs. Malone hasn’t finished grading my paper yet. I’m anxious to find out how I did on the rewrite. Maybe she’ll have it for me at the AP meeting today at lunch, since the meeting at break was cancelled because Mrs. Bennett is absent today. I guess the AP English world comes to a halt without the chief bitch on staff to lead it. Her students must be happy to have a day without their shrew. I wonder if Mr. Adewale is sitting in for her classes.

  “Jayd,” Mickey says coming up behind me and practically pulling me away from my locker before I have a chance to lock it good. “Meeting in the ladies’ room. Now.” Whatever it is must be good if we’re meeting in the bathroom. That’s our spot to chat when we don’t want anyone else to hear.

  When we get inside, Nellie’s primping in the mirror, even if her look is already flawless. The bathroom is fresh and cleaner than our bathroom at home. There’s a couch in the small hallway leading to the sinks and stalls. All of the bathrooms on campus are nice, but this one is by far the best.

  “I’m assuming you already checked the stalls,” Mickey says, momentarily glancing under the ten adjoining doors before leaning up against the long vanity on the other side of the spacious room next to Nellie. When I went to a football game at Compton last year, I went inside their girl’s bathroom and it wasn’t nearly as clean or modern as this one.

  “I know I’m fine enough to be a black Bond girl like Halle Berry, but don’t get it twisted,” Nellie says while brushing her long, jet black hair into a ponytail draped over her shoulder. “Hell no, I didn’t check the stalls and I’ve been in here an entire five minutes. No one’s come in or out that I’ve seen.”

  “What’s with all the secrecy?” I ask before entering one of the empty stalls. I might as well take advantage of the situation I’m in, even if I would rather be buying some CornNuts. Nellie, having the same idea, follows suit, leaving Mickey the floor.

  “How late can I be before I should take a pregnancy test?” Mickey asks as I squat behind the closed door. I’m glad she can’t see my face because if she could, I know I’d get a mouthful about my obvious disgust.

  “Mickey, did I just hear you right?” Nellie steps into the stall next to mine and closes the door. “Jayd, do you have a tampon?” she says, reaching her hand under the wall and into my space. Reaching behind me to the small pocket on my backpack, I pull out a maxi pad and hand it to my girl.

  “I only wear pads.” Mama refuses to let me wear tampons because of the health risks associated with them. She says that’s another thing that was wrong with my mama in high school. I sneak them in every now and then when I don’t want to risk the embarrassment of spotting. But I don’t like to wear tampons on a regular basis.

  “Oh my God, Jayd. You really need to get with the times, girl,” Nellie says, reluctantly taking it from me. But a girl can’t be too picky in these types of situations. “This will last me until I can get to the nurse’s office. I know she has a tampon in there.”

  “Uhm, hello. I just asked y’all a serious question,” Mickey says from her station at the mirror. “How long should I wait before taking a pregnancy test?”

  “Mickey, I thought you were smart enough to use protection. I know you’ve been with your man for a long time but I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him, and he’s a big dude,” Nellie says, beating me out of her stall. My Baby Phat gold belt is more intricate than it appears at first glance. Every time I wear this thing I feel like I’m trapped. But it seems like Mickey’s the one caught up right about now. I’m with Nellie on this one. How could Mickey be so stupid?

  “Look Nellie. Maybe that’s how it works in your world. But we don’t always know when we’re going to do it, so my man may not have condoms on him at the exact moment. It’s called spontaneity. Besides, a baby isn’t the end of the world.” Now I’m positive Mickey’s not thinking straight. A baby right now would be the end of her world as she knows it. Not only would she miss out on our senior year of high school next year to change diapers, but if her man finds out she’s been messing with Nigel at the same time, she’ll really be dead.

  “Are you sure he’s the daddy?” I say, opening the cream-colored metal door and joining them at the sink to wash my hands. Her and Nellie stare at me in silence through the reflection in the large mirror. Nellie looks from me to Mickey, who’s searching for the right answer in her head. But the look on her face tells me she doesn’t know whose baby it is. “Damn it Mickey. You can’t be serious.”

  “What, Jayd?” Mickey says, staring back at me through my reflection. Me and my girls make a pretty picture, but this isn’t a Kodak moment. “You think I don’t know how stupid I sound right now? I don’t need either of you rubbing it in,” she says turning off the faucet and shaking the excess water from her hands before walking over to the paper towel dispenser. “I just need some help.”

  Mickey’s right. We shouldn’t judge her, even if I did know something like this was going to happen. How could she sleep with both Nigel and her man without a condom, at the same time? And how could they sleep with her when I know they’re all creeping too?

  “Well,” Nellie says, touching up her hair as the warning bell rings, announcing third period. Soon the bathroom will be filled with girls rushing to class. Our meetings usually take place before the madness begins. “They do have those test that can let you know as soon as three days after your missed period. How late are you?”

  “Three weeks,” Mickey says like it’s no big deal. I know her mama got started early but damn, she needs to get it through her head that this ain’t going to be no walk in the park. At least her mama knew who the daddy of her baby was.

  “Three weeks? What are you waiting for Mickey, the baby to graduate from college? You need to go to the doctor as soon as possible,” Nellie says. I’m glad she’s here to handle damage control because I really don’t want to be involved in this one, especially not after what Mickey’s man said to me yesterday.

  “Jayd, why are you so quiet?” I want to tell Mickey what happened but I don’t know how to say it without incriminating myself in her eyes. The last thing I want to do is get into an argument with Mickey about her man but she needs to know exactly how foul he is for herself. “Can you please tell Nellie it’s not that serious?”

  “Mickey, it is that serious,” I say, drying my hands and tossing the paper towels into the garbage before exiting the bathroom with my girls right behind me. “And you need to get all the tests they can run on you at the free clinic. You might be pregnant and no matter who the daddy is, the situation isn’t good.”

  “What are you talking about? My man would take care of our baby. He takes care of me, doesn’t he?” I hate to bring up her man’s wandering eyes, but now is as good a time as any to call her out on her trifling man.

  “Mickey, taking care of you is more than making sure your whip is clean,” I say as Nellie grabs one more look in the mirror before following us out the door. The hall is beginning to fill with busybodies rushing to get to their lockers and I’m in no mood to be pushed around today.

  “Yes, it’s about taking responsibility and your man can’t do that from his front porch,” Nellie says, making a very good point. “How’s he going to help you and your child if he can’t keep his ass out of jail?” Unfortunately, like a lot of brothas I know, her man’s addicted to the hustle of street life and jail is always in his future.

  “Nellie, why do you always have to throw salt in my game?” Mickey says, stopping at her locker and turning the combination. “Besides, my man gets off house arrest in six months. After that he’ll be able to get a real job and stop hustling.” Mickey switches her books and checks her appearance in the small mirror hanging from her locker door.

  “Six months? You act like that’s around the corner,” Nellie says, leaning up against the lockers and eyeing the crowd with me. I notice KJ and his crew walk in through the main entrance, still gleaming from their defeat over my boy
s the other day. I hope Jeremy’s in a good mood in government class. Talking to him always makes the hour go by faster.

  “The likelihood that he’ll stop hustling just because you’re knocked up isn’t too good,” I chime in. “He’ll probably start hustling even harder if he knows he’s got another baby on the way.” I automatically glance down the hall to make sure my locker door is shut, which it is. Even nice schools have kleptomaniacs. Not that I have much to steal, but it would still creep me out if someone invaded my locker.

  “Yeah, doesn’t he have like two or three kids from his other baby mamas?” Nellie says, sending Mickey’s already testy attitude into overdrive. If she is pregnant, it’s going to be a long nine months.

  “Look, I know y’all may not think he’s a good man for me but he is,” Mickey says, slamming shut her locker door and marching off toward her class. Nellie and I look at each other as if to say, “See what you did?” I know Mickey’s pissed at us for telling her the truth, but that’s what friends are for, even if she doesn’t want to hear it.

  “Mickey, wait,” I say, grabbing her arm and stepping in front of her. I look into her hazel contacts and feel her pain and fear. I know she knows he’s not good enough for her or her baby, no matter how much she tries to front. “I didn’t want to tell you like this but your man made a move on me Monday when I tried to leave your house,” I say, shocking Nellie. Mickey, however, looks anything but surprised.

  “Your shit is way out of order, Jayd,” she says, snatching her arm away from my hand and almost causing a scene. I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “No matter what it seems like in your world, everyone doesn’t want your ass.” When the final bell rings above my head, signaling our tardiness, my friends walk off to their class and I go to mine without another word. What the hell did I just start?

  As I turn back toward the main hall to get my tardy slip, because I know Mrs. Peterson will ask me for it, I notice the girl’s bathroom door open and see Misty’s head emerge before she races down the other end of the near-empty hallway. She looks at me and smiles deviously, like she knows our secret. Ah hell nah, she didn’t hear us talking while we were in there. Mickey’s business will be around the entire campus before lunch if Misty has anything to say about it, if not sooner. She and the rest of South Central have history class right now, my girls included. I hope Misty keeps her mouth shut for the time being.

  “Jayd, what are you doing out of class?” Jeremy says as he walks into the hall from the office where I’m headed. “You’re always on time. This must’ve been good,” he says, holding one of the two doors open for me, allowing me to walk through. He’s such a gentleman even when he’s violating school rules.

  “Too good,” I say as we approach the attendance office. Usually a teacher wouldn’t make me go through all this for being a minute or two late. But Mrs. Peterson would be all too happy to make me walk back to the office and bring an unexcused tardy slip back to class. I might as well save myself the walk and beat her to the punch. “And what about you? What’s your excuse for being late?”

  “Oh, I just got here. I almost didn’t come but that would’ve meant missing the opportunity to sit next to you,” he says, stretching his arms above his head while yawning. His faded Old Navy T-shirt lifts above his belt displaying his slightly hairy stomach and firm six-pack. I wonder if he realizes how strong of an effect he still has on a sistah. “What happened to us hanging out yesterday? Too embarrassed to chill with a loser?” he says, smiling his bright whites and sparkly blue eyes at me. Damn, the boy seems to get finer every day.

  “No matter what you think of your skills player, you don’t have game,” I tease, taking the small pink slip from the student assistant and heading to class.

  “Yeah, don’t remind me,” he says and I realize I’ve bruised his ego. He’s still sore about losing the game against KJ a couple of days ago and I just rubbed salt in his wound. “I’ll be the first to admit that KJ’s got skills on the court, no matter how much of a jerk he is.”

  “Yeah, all too true,” I say. Jeremy opens the door leading back into the main hall toward our classroom, across the courtyard. There’s no one in the hall now except for us. If we could stay alone in our own little world we would probably still be together. “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’ve got some skills too, surfer boy,” I say, gently bumping into him, making him lose his balance.

  “Well thank you for the props, Lady J. But your boy needs to be humbled.” If Jeremy only knew the half of it. To let KJ’s fans tell it, he hasn’t lost a game of one-on-one in the past three years and he doesn’t plan on breaking his record anytime soon.

  “That’ll never happen. Waiting for KJ to retire his ego is like waiting for OJ to admit he did it.” Jeremy gently brushes his shoulder against mine, making me smile. I struggle to continue my thought as memories of our first kiss come into my mind. Why couldn’t Jeremy and I stay in that moment forever? “If KJ’s sure about one thing, it’s that he’s the greatest basketball player that ever walked the planet. If Michael Jordan walked in here right now, KJ would challenge him to a game and expect to win.” Giving Jeremy a good laugh, we walk into the classroom and meet Mrs. Peterson’s angry glare.

  “Thank you for joining us, Mr. Weiner and Miss Jackson.” Why does it sound so bad when she says our names together? I must’ve doodled them on my Spanish notebook a hundred times and they read well to me. “I trust you two know the way to the attendance office because I’m not letting either of you in here without a pass,” she says without looking up from her usual post behind her desk. Her retirement cannot come soon enough. In fact, I’m going to throw her a going-away party, but she won’t be invited.

  “Here you go Mrs. P. No worries,” Jeremy says, taking the pink pass from my hand and joining it with his before putting them both on her desk, wiping the annoying smirk from our teacher’s face. Now if I had done something that audacious, I would’ve been in detention for the rest of the week.

  “Don’t make a habit of being late,” she says, reluctantly looking at our passes before pointing us toward our seats. “You only get three tardies before a mandatory detention is issued. Now class, please write down your assignment and turn it in before the end of class. If you finish early, please work silently on your papers due in two weeks.” Before Jeremy and I can get comfortable in our seats, Mrs. Peterson looks up from her stack of papers and dead at me. “Miss Jackson, did you rethink your assignment?”

  “If you mean did I choose to do my paper on a leader besides Queen Califia, the answer is no,” I say, not backing down from her original challenge of my chosen topic. The class is silent and it’s not because of the no-talking rule in her class once the bell rings—they’re suspended in time, waiting for Mrs. Peterson to go off.

  “Fine then. Have it your way. But like I said, this is a nonfiction report and you’ll need to research and find supporting documentation. Fairy tales won’t do.” Jeremy and I look at each other and roll our eyes at her sarcasm. She’s such a hater and everyone knows it. I don’t know what’s got her bra so twisted every day, but I hope she gets over it before she’s the first person to croak from perpetual hating. She might be the first, but she probably won’t be the last.

  “Hey, don’t let her get to you. You know you’ve got it going on,” Jeremy says, making me blush. If Rah doesn’t return my calls soon, he might lose some of his clout with me. Jeremy’s a sweet guy and if I can give Rah another chance, I can certainly entertain the idea of giving Jeremy a second chance too.

  I’ve been calling Rah for the past three days with no return answer or text. I know Nigel would have told me if it were something serious. So I can only guess Rah’s silent treatment has something to do with his current ex-girl Trish. This brings back very unpleasant memories of the last time we were a couple. I don’t know why he shuts down like this, but he’s not getting away with keeping me in the wind for this long. I’m going to find out what’s up with him one way or another.

&n
bsp; During the long bus rides home, I had a chance to think about my approach with Rah. I hate when he keeps me guessing. As I wash my hands in the kitchen sink, I see Bryan approaching the driveway. I hope he’ll come clean with me if he knows anything about Rah’s silence.

  Making his way in from his day job at Miracle Market, Bryan throws his backpack down on the living room floor and takes a seat in front of the couch. I already put my stuff up in Mama’s room, ready to braid his hair and grill him for info on Rah at the same time.

  “Bryan, have you heard from Rah this week?” I ask, adjusting his head as I run the sharp comb down his scalp, making a clean part. “Damn. I forgot how much hair you have on your big-ass head. I should charge you for a head and a half.” Thick hair runs in our family and braiding it is no joke.

  “Less talking, more braiding,” he says, picking up the remote control from the coffee table and leaning back into his chair. I grease his scalp and begin to pull the cornrows into place. This must be how a surgeon feels when she makes her first incision and then stitches it back to perfection.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Have you heard from Rah?” Mama already came in here once warning me not to get hair all over the living room floor. If she lets me work with Netta, she won’t have to worry about it. Just like with Rah, I’m still waiting to hear back about that too. Mama hasn’t said a word about it again and I don’t want to call Netta without her permission. I’m learning patience but it’s not easy.

  “That’s not your business and ease up on the pulling, girl,” he says putting his hands on his head to relieve the pain. “Ouch Jayd, damn. Don’t take your frustrations out on me.” I push his head forward before untangling the crooked braid. He’s right, I shouldn’t take it out on him but I know he knows more than he’s saying. I’m sick of this stupid code of honor between dudes. Don’t they know how much we sistahs worry?