Cold As Ice (17 page)

“This is a closed-book exam, Miss Caldwell,” Mr. A says to Misty, who gives him the evil eye, but her tricks won't work on him. She doesn't know that Mr. Adewale is also a priest in our religion, and I think he should keep it that way for as long as possible. Knowing Misty's sneaky ass, she'll figure out a way to use his gifts to her advantage like she's done with me.

“But, Mr. Adewale, that's not fair. I didn't have a chance to study or anything, and it's Friday,” Misty whines. She's gotten real good at using her new look to get what she wants from the dudes, but Mr. A isn't the average man. Completely pissed, Misty reluctantly places her textbook on the floor next to her backpack and rolls her blue eyes sky high. She's a hot mess if there ever was one. Mr. Adewale looks at Misty, shakes his head, and continues with his lesson plan. That's one advantage to being in AP classes—they teach you to read ahead because the teacher may drop a quiz at any given moment like Mr. A is doing. If Misty would worry more about her own shit instead of always being up in mine and everybody else's, maybe she'd get more studying done.

“Glad to see you're feeling better, Miss Jackson,” Mr. Adewale says, smiling at me and me at him. His charm never wears thin on me. “Let's get to it.” I can see the rest of the class is unimpressed with our young teacher, including Jeremy. He's always been slightly jealous of my bond with Mr. A, but I hope we're over that. I can't have him mad at me while my friends are tripping, too. As we all get ready to turn over our test questions, Rah steps through the open door, sparing us all a few more moments from the inevitable.

“Excuse me, Mr. Adewale. I just came to check on Nigel,” Rah says, handing our teacher his office pass. Nigel put Rah down as his brother, and the administration never questions Rah when he comes up here. They've had more family-emergency excuses than anyone I know, not that Rah would need to use them with Mr. Adewale. They've been cool since Mr. A refereed a basketball game between Rah and our boys, and KJ and his boys at the beginning of the school year.

“Is everything okay, Nigel?” Mr. A asks, noticing the tense vibe between Nigel and Mickey, who is seated next to her man in their usual spot.

“Yeah, man,” Nigel says, standing up. “I just need to clear my head for a minute, if that's cool.”

“Nah, that ain't cool,” KJ says, waving his hand and shaking his head. “You ain't special because you can't control your woman. I can help you with that later, dog.” KJ and his boys get a good laugh at a very serious situation that Nigel finds anything but amusing.

“Man, you need to shut the hell up before I do it for you.”

KJ stops laughing at the seriousness in my boy's tone and the blank look in his eyes. We all know that stare. When Nigel's on the football field, he gets that same exact glare when he's about to take down any dude foolish enough to get in his way, but Misty apparently didn't get the memo.

“It's just the truth—it ain't fair.”

Why is Misty talking? Nobody asked her opinion. See what I'm saying—if she'd mind her own business, she'd get a lot further in life. Misty looks across the room and into my eyes, but little does she know her trick didn't have a lasting effect on me. My mom's gift moves in, my vision becoming hers, and it's not a good feeling. There's nothing but confusion in Misty's head. I can't make out one thought from the other and feel drained after being in here for only a second.

“I need to get out of here,” Nigel says, stating my thoughts exactly before grabbing his bag from the floor and hitting Mickey's foot trying to make his escape. Mickey looks up at her man's hard scowl and completely breaks down.

“It's Tre's baby, okay, Nigel!” Mickey yells, shutting everybody up with her confession. Misty and I look away from each other and at the
Jerry Springer
scene unfolding before us. “You're right, I'm nothing but a ho. Are you happy now?” Mickey storms out of the room, running into Rah on her way out. Damn, I wasn't expecting that one. Talk about the shit hitting the fan. Nellie runs after our girl, and I stay seated, waiting to see how it's all going to end. Jeremy looks like the rest of the white students in the classroom: completely amazed. Without another word, Mr. A writes Nigel a pass, and he and Rah leave us to our test. Mr. Adewale may be cool, but business is business. I could learn a lot by adopting the same philosophy when it comes to separating drama from the really important stuff, like this test in front of me. At the end of the day, there's not much I can do but pray that Nigel forgives Mickey for her indiscretions and lets her back into his heart, and that's exactly what I'm going to do. In the meantime, I'm going to handle my business because I've got a full day and night ahead of me.

 

I was so tired when I got in last night I fell down on my mom's couch in my clothes. It was the second night I have spent alone since I moved in here a week ago. If it weren't for the late-night study session after working at Netta's, I probably wouldn't have slept as good as I did. Mama's coming around little by little, mostly because she can't stay mad at me when I'm sick. When I'm not feeling well, healing me outweighs everything else.

I look forward to the study sessions like a regular night hanging out with a group of friends. Even Charlotte's not so bad once I got to know her. She even had cake with the rest of our English class on my birthday, and I thought that was pretty big of her. Maybe she's not such a hater after all—unlike Misty, who can't help herself, but, lucky for me, I'm learning how to handle her insanity. When I got a glimpse of her thoughts yesterday, I could see that Misty doesn't know which way is which—literally. She thinks being sneaky and manipulative is the only way to get what she wants, but what that is exactly is still a mystery to me. And from what little I could see, it's a mystery to Misty, too.

No matter what Misty does, I always end up wanting to help her after I get my payback. I found a story called
The Prodigal Daughter
in my mother's notebook, which she copied from the spirit book. It might help me help this trick so I can help my friends, too. It seems that everywhere Misty goes, she causes trouble, feeding off the negative energy she can create. It's almost as if her head is calm only when there's chaos around her. If I could find another outlet for Misty to direct her energy, maybe she'd be happy and think clearly—ultimately having a cool head rest on her shoulders. I just want to help Misty achieve that thought process more quickly, and my mom's story may help me do just that.

When my mother lost her gift of sight, Mama made her write the story down in the spirit book as a warning tale without naming the prodigal child. She is referred to only as “the woman with the hot head,” like in the odu, the divine stories of different events in the lives of orisha. But my mom's tragedy is more of an ode to a lost portion of our legacy than a lesson on righteous character. My mom lost her powers, and Mama has always wished they would return to the blood-line one day. I think the ancestors have answered Mama's call. Through my dreams, the prodigal daughter has returned.

In light of this new development, I am convinced I have to keep my mom's powers a secret. If I learn how to use them effectively, Mama will be so happy about the power being back in our possession that she'll forgive my defiant behavior, I hope. The only thing she said to me yesterday was that we were having brunch with my mom and Netta after church on Sunday. That was her way of telling me that, yes, she's coming to the sermon and that she and my mom have come to a compromise regarding the traditional celebration of our birthdays, which makes part of my job easy. The incantation for the return of the prodigal daughter to the household is for the mother and child to break bread together after I say the chant. I've been working it into my speech all afternoon. My last client left about two hours ago, and I have been sitting at the dining room table writing ever since.

I need a break, but my boo is helping Chance do some work on his car this evening. It's been too long since I had a night all to myself, and I should take advantage of it. The responsible side of me says I have grocery shopping to do, but the other side tells me to drive to the Fox Hills Mall and get a Hot Dog on a Stick and chill for a while. It's not the best dinner, but it'll satisfy my craving, and it's only ten minutes away. I miss Mama's cooking and her company. I can't believe I'm thinking this, but I even miss all the spirit work I would help her do on a daily basis. After tomorrow's sweet words, hopefully I'll be able to kick it with Mama without so much pain between us.

 

As I pull into the parking lot in front of the mall, my phone vibrates. I pick it up from the passenger's seat and immediately open it to hear my man's voice. Since Mr. Adewale's smile at me in class yesterday, Jeremy's been more reserved than usual. He didn't even offer to come over last night. Maybe he just needed some space to gain perspective on his unfounded jealousy. Jeremy should know by now that he's got me like I've got him, and I'm not letting go anytime soon.

“Hey, Jeremy,” I say, turning off my iPod and car. I look around at the other cars in the brightly lit covered lot, scoping my surroundings. A girl can't be too careful when she's alone.

“Hey, baby. What are you up to?” Jeremy asks. I love it when he checks up on me.

“I just got to the mall, about to hang out for a little while, enjoy some me time. What are you doing?” My mother's dark tinted windows allow me privacy to finish my conversation before I get out and join the rest of the shoppers. Nothing irks me more than when someone is engaged in a full-blown phone conversation in public.

“Chance and I are at the pier off First and Main with some friends. It's pretty cool,” he says. I can hear a girl's laughter in the background, and it's not Nellie. What kind of friends are we talking about?

“Do they have anything to eat?” I ask, restarting my engine and heading in his direction.

“Yeah, there's plenty of food here. They even have pretzels, your favorite.” I can hear Jeremy's smile through the phone. “I'll see you later, babe. We're about to go into a dead spot.” He breaks up because of the bad connection.

“Okay, baby.” The Santa Monica Pier isn't that big, so it should be easy to find them. Besides, if I know my man, he's found a spot to post up, and I'm on my way to relax with him.

Unlike the mall, parking by the beach is limited and costs money. The pier is packed tonight with mostly couples. It's the perfect affordable, romantic date place. As I predicted, Jeremy and Chance are seated at one of the picnic tables along the path with Alia and Candace from our AP group. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were on a date like the other people around us. Making my way down the trail toward their table, I can see them getting up to leave, walking in the opposite direction. I'd better quicken my pace if I want to catch up to them. I tried calling Jeremy, but it kept going to voice mail. I guess he really doesn't get a signal out here.

“Hey, Jeremy,” I say, walking up behind him and putting my arms around his waist. Chance, Candace, and Alia look up, shocked to see me. Didn't they know I was coming?

“Jayd, I thought you were at the mall. What are you doing here?” Jeremy asks, turning around to face me. He looks like he's just been caught cheating, and that's what it feels like, too. But that doesn't make any sense. Players don't give up their rendezvous locations.

“Why would you tell me where you were if you didn't want me to come?” I ask, pissed as all get-out. I feel completely uncomfortable and insecure, and Candace's guilty look isn't helping much.

“I was just talking. I didn't think you'd actually change your plans and come all the way down here.” Jeremy looks at Candace and Alia and then back down at me. I know he can see what I see so clearly: he's busted.

“Sorry, but my psychic wi-fi is off right now, just like your phone, I guess. I don't know what you were thinking when you called me while you were on a date. I'm out of here.” I turn around and head back toward my car. He can have his date, and if Chance thinks I'm not telling Nellie, he's got another think coming.

“But, Jayd…” Jeremy begins, but I don't want to hear it. I've been through this type of madness with Rah too many times to count, and I'll be damned if I make that same mistake in this relationship. “It's not like that. And I didn't tell you to come because you said you were busy.” Did I just hear him right? Is he denying the conversation we had less than fifteen minutes ago?

“I know I heard you right when you basically told me to change my plans and come over here. And now I get here, parking paid for, and you're leaving with a girl nonetheless? What the hell, Jeremy?” If this is a simple misunderstanding, Jeremy had better learn how to communicate properly with a black woman, and fast, if he's going to be with me.

“We were putting money in the meters,” Chance says, pointing to their cars parked on the street behind us.

“Okay, this is one of those hissy fits that's actually your rational reaction to a simple misunderstanding, right?” Jeremy asks, almost reading my mind verbatim. If he were smiling, I'd think he was trying to be a smart-ass, but I think he's actually sincere in his quest for understanding. I wish I could jump into Jeremy's mind right now, but my head's too hot.

“Are you being serious or patronizing? Because I can't tell,” I say as Alia smiles at our scene. Chance looks behind him to make sure his car is okay, new rims and all. Boys and their toys, I swear. I understand because the wheels do look flyy, but still.

“Jayd, I told you I'm always on your side, but sometimes you make me out to be the enemy just because that's what you're used to, and that's not fair to me or to us.” Maybe Jeremy does have a valid point. Sometimes I'm so used to having issues with boys I don't know how to act in a normal relationship, if that's what this is.