Pushin' Page 8

“Yes, but let’s be real. This part is not made for you, Jayd,” Laura says, reminding me of Bree’s stuck-up ass from Desperate Housewives. I’m about to get like Gabrielle and tell her tall, white ass off. “Why don’t you try out for something more suitable? Maybe next year there’ll be more options for someone like you.” That’s it. The bitch is getting slapped down to the floor and now.

  “Laura, why do you always want to start some shit with me?” I ask, stepping up to Laura, who stops smiling at my approach. “I’ve never caused you or little man any trouble, but for some reason you two are always hating on me. Am I that much of a threat to your happy, white world?” Reid looks dead in my eyes like he knows I won’t give him a psychic beat-down with my great-grandmother, Maman’s, gift of sight like I did a couple of months ago when I initiated the African Student Union at South Bay, much to his disliking. These are two of the most covertly racist and obviously snobbish teenagers I’ve ever met. If the saying about the fruit not falling too far from the tree is true, I’d hate to run into their parents.

  “You’re no threat at all, Jayd. Quite to the contrary, actually,” Reid says, taking his tall broad by the waist and stepping fully into our edgy cipher. The rest of the class prepares for the bell that’s about to ring and I should be right there with them, considering my sixth period weight lifting class is all the way across campus. But instead I’m dealing with this bull. What the hell? “We’re just trying to save you from the embarrassment, Jayd. Let’s just say that you do win the part. No one wants to see you play the lead, and therefore no one will come to opening night.” What universe do they live in?

  “Are you on crack, man? Because you know you don’t have to actually deal with drugs to audition for one of the dudes, right?” Chance asks, bringing some comedy into his insult, as always. “In case you forgot, the fall play was sold out every night, and Jayd was leading lady then and will be this time, too.” Noticing the tension, Mrs. Sinclair makes her way over to us, ready to accuse me, as always, of starting some shit.

  “Jayd, what’s going on here?” See what I’m saying? Why does it always have to be my fault when shit’s foul?

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask them, and I need to get to class,” I say, pointing at Reid and Laura before excusing myself from the dramatic side scene not written in the script. “Later, y’all.” I don’t have time this afternoon. How one of my best friends could be cool with those bigots is beyond me. And I’m always the one accused of stabbing folks in the back. As if.

  5

  Backstabber

  “Hit the road, Jack/And don’t you come back no more.”

  —RAY CHARLES

  “Jayd, watch where you’re going!” Mama shouts at me from a distance, but I can’t see a damned thing in the thick mist surrounding me. Is it day or night? Are we outside or in? I can’t tell anything, and because my vision is limited, the rest of my senses are way off. Unlike when other folks lose one of their senses, ours are not compensated when we lose our gift of sight, leaving us extremely vulnerable to our surroundings—including the people around us.

  “She gave it up too soon,” another voice says. It sounds like Maman, Mama’s mother, but I can’t tell. I seem to be losing my hearing, too. I’ve got to snap out of this dream and fast, before I lose all of my senses.

  Walking like a blind woman through a minefield, I put my hands out in front of me, feeling for any possible obstructions in my path. What happened to my eyes and why am I walking by myself? Where’s my mother? Where’s Mama? Suddenly I feel a hand on my left shoulder, causing me to stop in my tracks.

  “Jayd, you need to get out of here, now,” the unfamiliar voice says, turning me around in the opposite direction. How do I know I can trust this person when I can’t even tell who it is? I touch the hand on my shoulder, feeling for the arm it should be connected to. Before I can scream, I feel Mama’s presence enter the space and the lone hand disappears.

  “No, Jayd. Turn around. It’s the wrong way, girl,” I hear Mama say, but it’s too late. I’m already gone, and the farther I walk, the more distant Mama’s voice becomes. For some reason I am drawn toward the strong gust of wind I’m walking against. The hand on my shoulder returns, pushing me forward, and I continue my trek toward I-don’t-know-where. The farther I walk, the colder and stronger the wind gets, but I’m determined to arrive at my mystery destination.

  “Jayd, please turn around and go back. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” says a voice that sounds like a whisper of my mom’s sweet voice in my ear. “Please don’t do this.” I hear her, but I can’t stop now. I’ve come too far to not see where this road leads. The hand on my shoulder gently squeezes, signaling for me to stop where I am. Now completely blind, I wave my hands frantically in front of me, reaching for anything that might serve as a clue to where I am, but I’ve got nothing.

  “We’re here,” the voice says, now raspier than before. She sounds like an evil witch, and the fear of the unknown sets in. What the hell have I done? And why didn’t I listen to my mothers when I surely knew better? Even my sense of reasoning is lost when I can’t see.

  “I want to go back,” I say, turning around, but the hand touches me again, this time more forcefully, turning me back around. I can’t hear a thing now and wish I had listened to my elders before. Even if their voices sounded different, I should’ve trusted them.

  “Not a chance,” the frigid voice says, urging me forward. “You’re here now and you belong to us.” Tears fall down my cheeks, reminding me of the time I was blinded while reliving the day my mom lost her powers and how horrible it felt to be robbed of my sight. What if I never get out of this dream? I remember my lessons from a couple of nights ago, which spoke about the power of the mind even when unconscious. Let’s see if I can will myself out of this nightmare.

  “You can’t make me stay if don’t want to,” I say, grabbing the cold hand and removing it from my body. Once free, I start to run in the opposite direction, but because I can’t see a thing, I have no idea where I’m running to or whom I’m running from. I just know I need to move.

  The hand again reclaims my shoulder, now hurting me to the point of paralysis. What is this, some kung fu shit? She again turns me around in the opposite direction, pushing me quickly forward and then stopping. I turn around again and push back as hard as I can, forcing her hand free and running again, but now it’s a steep hill I have to climb. I can’t hear her creep up behind me as she grabs me by the ankles, dragging me back down.

  “You can’t run from me, little Jayd.” Now it’s clear whom the voice belongs to: Esmeralda. How did she get into my dreams again? And how can I get away from her, permanently?

  “There’s only one way to get away from me,” Esmeralda says, answering my unspoken question. Pulling me to my feet, we’re right back where we started. The wind is too powerful for me to try running again. All I can do is hold my ground and pray that I wake up soon. “And I’ll gladly grant your wish.” Before I can protest, Esmeralda stabs me in the back with something sharp and I fall forward off of what feels like a cliff. Oh hell no. Why is this bitch always trying to kill me?

  “Ahhh!” I scream, waking a sleeping Jeremy and probably the rest of my mom’s neighborhood. I bet Mama even heard me all the way in Compton. I grab my throat, touch my ears and then wave my hands in front of my face, checking my senses to make sure they’re all good.

  “Jayd, what’s wrong?” Jeremy asks, leaping to his feet and turning on the lamp. He sits back down on the living room floor and holds me tightly. I look around the apartment, thankful for my vision. “Are you okay, baby?” I’m not really sure, but I don’t want to scare him any more than I already have.

  “Yes. It was just a bad dream,” I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I know Jeremy doesn’t understand what I go through as a voodoo priestess on the regular, but at least he’s compassionate.

  “That was one hell of a dream to make you cry,” he says, leaning up against the wal
l next to our makeshift cot. He lifts my chin and looks into my eyes, wiping the remaining tears away. I wish the memory of my nightmare could fade as easily. I try to shake the image of being blind out of my head, but it’s no use.

  “Yeah, it was.” I don’t want to relive the details right now and I hope Jeremy doesn’t pry. I glance at the clock on the DVD player and we only have two more hours to sleep before our school day begins. Maybe I can fall back into a sweet dream to make up for that frightening shit. Jeremy hugs me tightly, rubbing my back and kissing my forehead. I can tell he’s worried. This is one of those times I wish Mama were here to comfort me, but my man’s doing his best to calm my jittery nerves.

  “I’m sorry, baby. You don’t have to be afraid. I’m right here,” Jeremy says, lying back down with me on his chest and pulling the blankets over us both. He’s such a good boyfriend. Jeremy’s been extra tired, surfing until dark in preparation for his upcoming surf competition, but he never forgets about me. We haven’t completely hashed out our Rah issue, but I honestly think we’re both too busy to deal with unnecessary bull. We’re here for each other and that’s the most important thing. I can feel Jeremy’s breath slow down as he falls back asleep, and I’m going to attempt to join him for the little time we’ve got left before our school day officially begins.

  Jeremy and I got in a couple of good hours of sleep the second time around, but it wasn’t enough to shake off my bad dream. I’ve been paranoid all morning and it’s only our nutrition break. My girls haven’t noticed my edgy mood, but I feel anything but cool. Laura and Reid making their way down the hall toward my locker can’t be a positive thing. Unless they’re coming to apologize for yesterday’s hating in drama class, I don’t want to hear it.

  “Good morning, Jayd,” Reid says. Laura’s silent, allowing her man to do the talking this morning. “Laura and I want to apologize for upsetting you yesterday, especially knowing that you’re trying out for the cheer squad. We might have to work with each other next year, and we don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.” Is this dude serious?

  “Unless you’ve changed legs recently, you’ll always be on the wrong foot with me,” I say, shutting my locker door and facing them fully. “What do you really want, Reid? I’m not in the mood for your not-so-witty conversation today,” I say, impressing Reid with a little wit of my own.

  “Look, Jayd. Here’s the deal,” Reid says, clearing his throat. “We’re going into our senior year, and the competition for solid activities for our college application is only going to get tougher. It’s simply unfair that you’ll probably get special consideration for everything because of your heritage, and we need you to let someone else have a shot at the good stuff, the lead role in the spring play included.” I get it now. Laura needs to fill up her high school resume like I do, and she surely can’t try out for cheer with her frail ass. She’s already in ASB, and everything else is probably uninteresting to the little princess. No wonder the newfound curiosity with drama.

  “Good-bye, Reid,” I say, walking past him and toward my second period English class. I’ve still got a few minutes left before the bell rings and I’d rather spend them alone than with this racist fool and his girlfriend. Little does he know I get no special love because I’m the only black girl on the Advanced Placement track, and I wouldn’t give up a damn thing even if I did.

  “Jayd, I’m serious,” Reid says, touching my shoulder like Esmeralda did in my dream this morning. “Just think about it. You wouldn’t want to get hurt taking on too much.” Reid and Laura smile, knowing they’ve shaken me to my core, but how? Misty’s up to her evil tricks again. I know it. Before I can probe their minds, they walk off, leaving me in the main hall completely confused.

  “Jayd, you look shook up this morning. Everything all right?” Mr. Adewale asks, being his usual observant self as he walks past me on the way to his classroom, which is also in the language hall adjacent to the main hall. I hope he didn’t witness Reid and Laura talking to me, but I already know his hazel eyes don’t miss a thing. I bet Nellie wishes her fake eyes gave her a little extra insight when it comes to her boyfriend, because he’s changing right in front of us all and I think she’s missing the signals.

  “Bad dream,” I say, not wanting to get into the details of my morning. Mr. Adewale shares my lineage and gifts because his family and Mama both lived in the same African village in South Carolina for a while, so I don’t need to explain myself to him. He gets it, but I still don’t want to talk about it. I follow him to his classroom and plop down in one of the seats.

  “Ah,” he says, propping himself up on the corner of his well-organized but packed desk. “Want to talk about it?” I look into his eyes, noticing the flecks of green circling the golden brown irises that make him that much more attractive to me. I look up at his bushy brown eyebrows and then to the crown of locks cascading loosely over his shoulders. This man is gorgeous and I know he feels me feeling him. I snap back into reality, feeling a bit warmer than usual.

  “Not really.” I look down at my worn sandals, realizing I need to hit up Payless shoes soon and stock up on my summer footwear. DSW has good sales, too, and they’re both at the mall. Maybe Mickey will feel up to a shopping trip this week since Nellie’s fallen off the deep end of the frenemies pool again. It’s been a while since we hung out at the mall, and she could use the walking. Mr. A tosses his keys onto his desk, revealing yet another piece of his personal puzzle.

  “You’re in a fraternity?” I ask, shocked that Mr. Adewale would ever pledge anything. He seems like a “me phi me” kind of guy, but the black and red logo on the brass key chain is definitely from one of the black fraternities.

  “Yes, and I’m a Mason. What of it?” He looks down at his keys and back at me, smiling at my reaction. I can never figure this brother out.

  “I just never pegged you for a follower,” I say, looking at the students walking by the open door, enjoying the warm weather. I would be out there, too, if my crew weren’t dispersed all over the place. Nigel, Jeremy, and Chance are in the lower parking lot checking out Chance’s latest car radio addition, and my girls are in the bathroom primping away the few minutes we have left in the morning break.

  “You should never make assumptions about what you don’t know, Jayd. Fraternities and sororities do a lot of good and serve their purpose, just like everything else in life. You can ask your grandmother about it, too.”

  “Yeah, I just found out she pledged in college, but I haven’t talked to her about it yet.” That’s because I’m still in shock. There is so much about Mama I don’t know, and the more I find out, the more I feel like I don’t know my grandmother at all.

  “She’s also an Eastern Star, even though I know she hasn’t been active since leaving the church.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, ever shocked at the fact that Mr. A knows so much about my lineage. It’s good insight but still a bit scary. “How come I never knew about that, either?” I know I said that aloud, but I’m really asking myself. How could I be so oblivious?

  “Maybe you should ask more about your lineage and worry less about your little friends and their distractions,” he says, gesturing toward the door. I guess he did witness the verbal combat I just experienced. “There’s always more to learn, especially with the Williams women, no?” Mr. A is right. I’ve been off my spiritual game lately and I’m paying the price. I feel like honing my and my mom’s talents is more important than my spiritual studies right now, but obviously I need to balance them both out.

  Acknowledging my silence, Mr. A continues. “It’s just a suggestion, Miss Jackson. I know you’re a teenager and want to be like everyone else, but it’s impossible, Jayd, because you’re not a part of the status quo and never will be.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk, Mr. Adewale,” I say, rising from my seat with the ringing bell. I could stay here and chat with Mr. A forever.

  “Anytime, Jayd. See you in class next period,” he says as I leave the room. I ha
ve a lot of work to catch up on and will check out more about Mama’s path when I get a chance—sororities, secret societies, and all. Unfortunately it won’t be this afternoon because I have to go to work after cheer practice. Yesterday was the introduction to what we’re expected to learn by Friday, and the three routines are anything but easy. I’m sure this afternoon will be no different. At least today’s the mandatory faculty meeting, allowing us all an early afternoon and me more time to spend with Mama and Netta. It’ll be nice being around people who have my back after having to watch it all day at school.

  The rest of the afternoon was pretty uneventful. Because my group already read through our parts for drama, the rest of the students had a free period to study our lines for the final round of auditions. Chance was conveniently missing in action. He can’t avoid talking about his trip forever. If I didn’t have cheer now, I’d go over to his house and get the full story. I’ve been rehearsing my dance moves since sixth period and am ready for today’s rehearsal.

  Stepping into the gym from the weight room where my class is held, I notice Nellie and Misty already dressed out. Please tell me Misty’s not joining the tryouts. Oh hell no. We can’t be in the same place at the same time for any longer than necessary. As if I didn’t already have enough negative energy around, my nemesis has thrown her hat into the ring.

  “What’s up, Nellie?” I ask, trying to make nice, but I can see from Nellie’s hazel glare that she’s not done tripping off of Mrs. Carmichael’s dinner invitation. If Nellie only knew the whole story maybe she wouldn’t be so quick to hate on a sistah. But it’s Chance’s story to tell, not mine, and why he can’t share it with his girlfriend is none of my business, either.

  “Is she the only person standing here?” Misty asks, talking out of the side of her neck as usual. Rather than answer the evil wench, I choose to ignore her like Nellie did me, and claim a space on the half-court mark for practice. Before I can pass them both up, Misty sticks her fat foot out, tripping me on purpose.