The Meltdown Read online

  “Pardon, Jayd,” Emilio says in his thick Venezuelan accent with an air of false humility. “Maybe I should refer to you as Madam President, since I did have a hand in giving you that title.”

  I turn around and face Emilio’s smug ass. He’s only a couple of inches taller than my five-foot frame. I know I could take him down if I had to.

  “What do you want, Emilio?” I ask impatiently. Where’s a flyswatter when I need one? We have only a couple of minutes to get to third period, and I’m not willing to be late for this fool.

  “The same thing we all want, Jayd. For your grandmother to join our spiritual family.” Emilio’s smile grows more sinister as he takes a step closer to me, nearly pinning my back against the long row of lockers. I need to join our fellow students in their mid-morning exodus to class before I end up kneeing this boy in his family jewels.

  “Who’s this elusive ‘everybody,’ because no one I know wants that,” I say, maneuvering my way around him and charging toward the history corridor attached to the large hall.

  “You know me, and I do,” Emilio says, keeping up with my fast pace. “Besides, you owe me a favor.”

  I stop in midstride, almost causing a collision behind me, and look this punk dead in the eye. If I could conjure my great-grandmother’s powers, I would. Emilio would be crippled by my thoughts, and that would suit me just fine.

  “Let’s get this straight, Emilio, once and for all. I don’t owe you a damned thing.” My head’s getting hot and right after I had a cleansing, too. Damn this boy and his pushy godfather.

  “Of course you do, Madam President. If I’d voted for myself instead of you, I’d be president of the African Student Union and you would be vice president. You and I both know that we were neck and neck, Jayd.” Emilio touches my shoulders, his touch cool against my skin. If I’d known he was going to lay his hands on me again, I wouldn’t have worn a tank top.

  We stare each other down, neither of us relenting in our stance. My head begins to boil at the thought of Emilio threatening my grandmother or having the audacity to think I needed his help to win the election for the club I founded. As if. Before I can escape Emilio’s grasp without acting violent, his fingers coil around my neck like the snakes in my shower nightmare a couple of weeks ago. Emilio’s eyes glow at my entrance into his mind, but the trick’s on me: My head’s too hot, and his cool thoughts are causing my vision to blur.

  “Let go of me,” I say, grabbing both his wrists in my hands and forcing them away from my body, ending our mental quest. I may not be at a hundred percent, but my fifty percent beats Emilio’s weak ass any day. The tardy bell rings, and Emilio walks away as defeated as he was when he first approached my locker. I vigorously shake my head and enter the barren classroom where Jeremy’s waiting at his desk next to mine. I’m not letting Emilio ruin our last day of school, even if he does need to be dealt with in a serious way.

  After third period, Jeremy decided to ditch fourth but promised he’d return for lunch. We have to sign yearbooks, take photos, and say our good-byes to folks we won’t see until September, like my homegirl Maggie and her crew hanging in their customary spot in the quad, El Barrio. KJ, Misty, and the rest of South Central were missing from Mr. Adewale’s speech and debate class, and I for one was grateful for the peace. It seems the rest of my crew decided to stick around for lunch, too, but will probably leave right after. I might do the same since Mrs. Sinclair officially ended drama class after the play last week, and there’s no cheer practice this afternoon.

  “What up, senior?” Mickey asks, walking up to the lunch bench I’ve claimed for us.

  “I like the sound of that, senior,” I say, exchanging yearbooks with my girl. “I’m glad you made it, Mickey. It wouldn’t be the same without you. How’s Nickey adjusting to not being with you during the day?”

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” Mickey says, propping herself up on the table and opening her Diet Coke. “I’m just glad to be out of the damned house.”

  “Mickey, you’re too much,” I say, stating the obvious. I think I’ll put that fact of life in her book, too.

  “Whatever,” she says. “I need to ask Misty how she lost all that weight,” Mickey says, eyeing Misty and KJ walking across the lunch quad with the rest of their crew in tow. As usual, Misty’s red outfit leaves little to the imagination. Mickey’s right about one thing: Misty’s swag is completely different from our sophomore year. Not only did she shed a good thirty pounds, but she also adjusted her wardrobe and her height by wearing high heels every day. From the outside looking in, Misty’s entire junior year was all about social change. Too bad her metamorphosis didn’t carry over to her academics. Rumor has it she barely passed the eleventh grade.

  “Are you kidding? Misty’s always up in someone’s business. That alone can burn a thousand calories a day,” I say, making my girl giggle. “It’s a wonder the chick has all that ass left.”

  “Yeah, she is rocking the J.Lo, but KJ seems to love it,” Mickey says.

  I never thought I’d see the day Mickey was envious of Misty. I can’t believe it.

  “Of course he does,” I say, trying not to talk with my mouth full, but this turkey sandwich is banging and I’m hungry. “It’s all his, even if he’s not returning the same loyalty to Misty.” KJ couldn’t turn down an available broad to save his life. Most might say that KJ’s the man for running game, but I say it’s a sign of how deep his insecurities lie.

  “Why should he? KJ’s got game and he’s fine.”

  Mickey can be so shallow sometimes, I swear. We both wave to the rest of our crew exiting the main hall and heading our way. They had to clean out their lockers or risk staying after school to get the job done. South Bay High doesn’t play about school beautification and will gladly charge a fee to anyone who doesn’t follow the rules.

  “All I’m saying is if a girl talked to every dude who looked good, she would be seen as having daddy issues. Therefore, I think it’s safe to say that KJ has mama issues. His love of booty is his way of compensating for attention he missed during childhood.”

  Mickey looks up at me in midsip and smiles.

  “Somebody’s been watching too much Dr. Phil,” Mickey says, checking her shirt and making sure her breasts aren’t leaking.

  I had to go to three different stores to find the perfect breast-feeding bra. After all the trouble I went through, of course Mickey’s ready to throw in the towel and bottle-feed my goddaughter.

  “Whatever, Mickey,” I say, stuffing the last Frito into my mouth, along with my sub. Damn, these things are good. It must be that time of the month. I always crave salt and chocolate when Mother Nature’s ready to make her grand appearance. “I don’t see where you need to lose weight. You’re wearing the same jeans you wore on the first day of school.”

  “You’re right,” Mickey says, looking down at her Express pants and poking at her belly roll. Granted, her pudge is new, but what did she expect after having a baby? “I need to go shopping.”

  As usual, Mickey misses the point completely.

  Jeremy, Chance, Nigel, and Nellie finally reach our table with their yearbooks and lunch in hand, ready to chill.

  “What up, my peeps?” Chance says, claiming a spot on the bench.

  Nigel hands Mickey her lunch and everyone couples up—even Chance and Nellie. I guess they’re speaking again for the time being. Looking at my friends, I become misty-eyed knowing we won’t be able to chill like this again for a while. Man, my hormones and my sight have got me tripping hard.

  “What’s harshing your mellow?” Jeremy asks, noticing my mood shift and putting his arm around me.

  Sometimes I swear we speak a different language. “I’m going to miss you. My grandmother left yesterday, and I already miss her, too,” I say, attempting to hold it together. It’s all too much for me to handle this afternoon. And besides, I’m supposed to be happy on my last day. At least I’m not anticipating any end-of-the-year fights, which is the usual mod
e of operation in my hood for the last day.

  “I’ve got something that’ll make you smile,” Jeremy says, pulling a tightly rolled plastic bag from his back pocket.

  I open the black bag and unfold the T-shirt and tank top inside.

  “This one’s for you,” Jeremy says, taking the pale blue tank and holding it up to my chest. “South Bay Surfer,” he says, reading the white words aloud.

  “You are crazy, Jeremy,” I say, holding up the extra-large yellow shirt. “And this is supposed to be yours, I assume.”

  “You know it, baby,” he says, pointing to the word Gold-digger printed across the front in bold, black letters. He must’ve been high when he bought these, but I don’t care. I needed to laugh.

  “Y’all are nuts,” Nigel says, laughing at us.

  The rest of our crew shake their heads and continue eating and signing. The other excited students around us are all pretty much doing the same thing.

  “I love my gift, baby,” I say, kissing my man. “Thank you.” I return the shirt to the generic bag and bring the last bite of my sandwich to my lips. “When do you leave?”

  “Early tomorrow morning, Jayd. It’s an eight-hour flight to London,” Jeremy says, shocking me. I knew it was soon but not less than twenty-four hours from now. Against my best effort, tears well up in my eyes, instantly eliminating my remaining appetite. I try to hold them back, but they fall to my cheeks anyway.

  “I’m going to miss you,” I say, replacing Mickey’s yearbook with Jeremy’s and turning to my spot. I reserved pages in each of my friends’ books when we received them Wednesday: We all did the same thing.

  “I’m going to miss you, too,” Jeremy says, signing my book. “But you’ll see. Six weeks will fly by and I’ll be right back here with you, Lady J.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Mama’s gone indefinitely having big fun in New Orleans and Puerto Rico, and now my boyfriend’s leaving for half the summer, too. This isn’t fair.

  “Hey, Jayd and Jeremy,” Cameron says, smiling too big at my man. She doesn’t know the rest of our crew, and they choose not to greet her, either. I guess it’s too late in the year to make new friends. “Want to sign my yearbook?” she asks, placing her book on top of mine as if it’s not even there. If Cameron wasn’t one of the cool white girls on my AP track, I’d probably be more jealous than I already am. She’d better not push her luck, because I don’t like her that much.

  “Sure, C,” Jeremy says, rubbing my exposed thigh while simultaneously signing his name and adding the infamous “K.I.T.” before getting back to mine: I get way more than three letters.

  I love wearing shorts, especially since I joined the cheer squad. My legs have never been this fit, and they’ll only get better with our summer practice schedule. It’s not so bad because we have practice only three times a week. I can handle that, and I could use the distraction since my boo will be traveling.

  “Is your family going to make it to Europe this summer?” she asks. Cameron passes her book to me, which I quickly sign.

  “Yeah, unfortunately,” Jeremy says, looking into my sad eyes.

  I can’t believe we’re finally in a good space and being forced to spend time apart. Life isn’t fair in the least bit.

  “It should be fun, unlike last year,” Cameron says, piquing my interest and that of my friends. Last year? What the hell am I missing here?

  Sensing my irritation, Jeremy rubs my thigh harder to reassure me it’s not what he knows I’m thinking. Cameron eyes Jeremy’s book in my lap like she wants to snatch it up, and I wish she would. Then I’ll be justified in slapping that bright smile off her face.

  “I just want to go and get it over with. Last year I didn’t want to be in Redondo for the summer. This year I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be,” Jeremy says, kissing my nose.

  “Oh my God, you’re one whipped nigga,” Mickey says, ruining the sweet moment and serving it to Cameron, who looks more than ready to roll: It’s too much color over here for her.

  “Well, okay, then. Bye,” Cameron says, replastering her fake smile and bidding us farewell without signing a damn thing. I should’ve signed her book “So long, trick, and stay away from my man while you’re at it” instead of “Have a good summer.” She might get too literal with that shit.

  “Who the hell was that, and why is she vacationing with your man?” Mickey asks, digging into her food and my raw emotions.

  It’s hard to believe she gave birth a little over a month ago. I wish I could eat whatever I wanted and still fit into a size four, even if she does have new handles to hold on to.

  “She’s not going anywhere with me,” Jeremy says, shutting down Mickey’s hating. “Our families vacation at the same resort, just like Chance and his folks, right, man?”

  “It’s Chase, man. Chase,” Chance says passionately while at the same time ignoring Jeremy’s question. “Session at my house after school—I insist,” Chance says, leaning on Nellie. Their on again / off again relationship is working my nerves, not to mention I’m still hurt that he flaked on the lead role even if Nigel rocked it. I wonder if Nigel will take Mrs. Sinclair up on her recommendation for him to join the drama class next year. It’ll be nice to have another brother in class.

  “I’m down,” Nigel says, devouring the last of his chili Fritos. He hasn’t said much, and I can see why. All of his food is gone.

  “I’ll have to see if my mom can watch the baby,” Mickey says.

  The sad look in her eyes isn’t from missing Nickey but rather from missing her life before motherhood, envying our seemingly carefree schedules. I’m the only one who can feel her sense of responsibility, because I’m usually the one with all of the work to do. But now that Netta’s sisters have taken over the shop while she and Mama are out of town, my time at the shop has dramatically decreased per Mama’s insistence, allowing me more time to get my side hustle on.

  “Let’s make it a good one with everyone in attendance,” Chance says, eyeing Jeremy and me.

  He knows we’ll want to spend the night alone, being that my man’s leaving in the morning. But I guess we have to make time for our friends, too.

  “Is that Tania?” Nellie asks, pointing toward the front parking lot, way too excited to see the head bitch in charge on campus. I guess she wanted to spend the last day with her graduating class even if she already took the GED. Maybe the administration’s letting her walk in tonight’s graduation.

  “Yeah, it is,” Jeremy says, looking at his ex-girlfriend hard like he can see his son through her even if the baby’s not here. If he didn’t want to get away before, I’m sure he’s looking for an escape route now.

  “I have to say hi to her and get the latest dish. Her baby’s probably too cute,” Nellie says, leaving us at the table to run off and join the other groupies. What’s so damned special about that chick? She’s an evil broad at her nicest and a mean, rich bitch every other day of the year. What gives?

  “You can go say hi if you want,” I say to Jeremy, who hasn’t taken his eyes off her—not even to blink. I know his disdain for his baby’s mama runs deep, but I don’t mind if he wants to check on the status of his newborn son.

  “Why would I want to do that?” Jeremy asks, looking down at me and exhaling deeply. “Forget her and her parents.” What he’s not saying is forget his dad, too. Because Tania’s Persian and therefore has brown skin, Mr. Weiner wouldn’t allow Jeremy to claim the baby. If he tried, Jeremy would be disowned and cut out of the family inheritance and probably kicked out of the house even if he’s only seventeen.

  “There’s the bell,” Chance says, and I’m thankful for the diversion. “My house, after school. No exceptions.”

  “We’ll be there,” Nigel says, giving his boys dap.

  “Us too,” I say, hugging my man, who’s still in shock. Tania looks a little sore from here but good. I can’t believe she and Mickey bounced back in a week after giving birth. Mama says as long as women are healthy, they s
hould give birth naturally for the very same reason. There’s no quick recovery time with a C-section, which is what Mickey initially wanted.

  We claim our trash and head off to complete our final day as juniors, although I’m positive we’ll all take it easy for the rest of the day. Maybe if Jeremy and Tania had been in love when they made their baby, they would’ve fought harder to stay together. Whatever the case, her loss is my gain and I’m not going anywhere anytime soon without my man in my pocket. And if Cameron knows what’s good for her, she’ll back up off mine, too. Jeremy knows I’m all the girl he needs, and the feeling’s definitely mutual.

  6

  If I Was Your Girlfriend

  If I was your one and only friend, would you run to me

  if somebody hurt you / Even if that somebody was me?

  —PRINCE

  Before I left campus for the day, I had to say good-bye to Ms. Toni, who was overwhelmed with graduation duties. As the activities director, her job never ends and she informed me that she’d be on campus over the summer. Some of us just can’t get enough of Drama High. Ms. Toni also gave me free access to her personal library, and I took advantage of it, this time picking out a novel, The Hand I Fan With, about this sistah Lena who has an affair with a ghost she wished up. I can’t wait to dig into it. The soft texture of the cover’s already got me wishing for more.

  We’ve been at Chance’s house for over three hours, and the rest of my friends are already lit—minus Nellie’s prude ass, of course. She’s been unusually quiet lately, constantly texting in private. I came into the kitchen thinking Nellie would be here, but she’s nowhere to be found. I’m sure Nellie would rather be with her rich-girl crew, but they’re slowly eliminating her from their group now that the year’s over. The whole homecoming-princess thing can only last so long. I feel sorry for my girl, but not that bad. Once Nellie’s ass is completely humbled, maybe we’ll finally get the Nellie back we all know and love.