Indigo Summer (6 page)

Indigo

“Indi
, you sleep?”

“No, I'm awake.”

As the moonlight brushed across her face, I could see the whites of Tameka's eyes staring at me, her head resting in the palm of her hand, as she balanced herself on her elbow.

“Have you ever done it before?”

“No,” I answered softly. “You?”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet? Which means that you're considering it?”

“Everyone's doing it, Indi. I think we're the last two teenagers on earth who haven't.”

“Really?” This caused me to sit up in the twin bed.

“Yes,” she said.

“What about what your mom said about our pocketbooks?” I asked her.

“Jeff said that if two people love each other, then it's not wrong.” She smiled and I could see her pearly whites in the moonlight.

“So you love Jeff?”

“He's so sweet, Indi,” she said, her eyes all glassy. “I think I do love him. No, I'm pretty sure I do.”

“Does he love you, too?”

“Of course, silly.” She fell onto her back, her eyes facing the ceiling. “Why else would he give me a ring?”

“Yeah, you're right. I guess he does love you.” I fell flat onto my back, and stared at the ceiling, too. Began to wonder if I would ever love someone, or if someone would ever love me enough to give me a ring. Would Quincy ever feel the same way about me that Jeff felt about Tameka? I had never given love much thought until now. But love still seemed so complicated, because it seemed to come with other stuff, like jealousy, hurt and most of all, sex. And sex was not something that thrilled me. I couldn't understand what all the hype was about. Maybe someday I would, I thought as my eyes became heavy. But right now, I didn't.

“Just wait until you and Quincy fall in love.”

Now that was something I'd never considered. I didn't foresee that happening, but I didn't say that to Tameka. Instead, I just allowed my eyes to give in to sleep that I was suddenly fighting.

“You sleep, Indi?” Tameka asked again. And this time I didn't answer. The bed had already pulled my body in and soon I was dreaming.

 

As I turned over and adjusted myself across the bed, I could've sworn I caught the smell of smoked sausage. I opened one eye, and adjusted it to the sunlight as Tameka, dressed in her Victoria-Secret pajamas with PINK written across her behind in huge white letters, opened the blinds. Loud gospel music shook the entire house. They were songs I recognized because our choir at church sang them just about every Sunday.

“Hey, sleepyhead, it's about time you woke up.”

“Is it morning?” It seemed that I'd just shut my eyes for the night.

“Of course it is.”

“What time is it?” I asked, opening both eyes.

“Nine-thirty,” she said, and snatched the covers off of my tired body. “My mama cooked breakfast. She said for us to come downstairs and eat.”

“Y'all don't go to church?” I asked, and had packed a dress in my bag for Sunday School, just in case.

“Naw. My mama just plays the gospel music real loud and we play like we at church.” Tameka laughed.

“Oh, okay,” I said and didn't hesitate to jump up, run to the bathroom and wash my face.

 

Fat smoked sausages, pancakes and scrambled eggs were on the kitchen table, along with a pitcher of orange juice and two glasses of milk. The kitchen was bright, with plenty of sunlight beaming in through the windows. There seemed to be a million windows in the kitchen, and there was an island in the center of the floor. Not like the traditional kitchen at my house.

“Well, good morning!” Mel said. “Did you get enough sleep, honey?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Have a seat and dig in.” She grinned, pulling her short, sexy robe tighter as she flipped pancakes on a griddle.

I took the closest seat at the end of the table, took a sip of milk. Tameka plopped down in the chair next to mine. Sunday's
Atlanta Journal-Constitution,
the local newspaper, was scattered about on the table.

“I want three pancakes, Mommy,” she said, taking a drink of her milk, creating a milk mustache on her upper lip.

“How many would you like, Indi?” Mel asked.

“I'll take two,” I said.

“Then two it is.” Mel touched my nose with her fingertip. “Your mother said she would be here to pick you up after church, so make sure you get your stuff together after you eat.”

“Yes, ma'am,” I said, and patiently awaited my hot, golden pancakes.

It was always more fun at someone else's house than it was at home, and I soon realized that as I bounced my overnight bag onto the bed in Tameka's room. I began packing my clothes and got a little depressed about having to go home. It was interesting to learn how other families did things, especially when they did things differently than what you were accustomed to. I sat on the edge of my bed, peered out the window and waited for my mama to pull into the driveway.

When I got home, I raced to my room and shut the door. It wasn't that I didn't want to spend time with my parents, but conversations with Tameka left me with a lot to think about. Conversations about love and sex and boys. It was all racing through my mind like a freight train. If we were the last two teenagers on earth who hadn't had sex, then what was wrong with us?

My blinds were open and I caught a glimpse of Marcus pacing the floor in his room, his headphones covering his ears, a chicken leg in his hand. He caught me watching him and blew me a kiss. I rolled my eyes at him, and snatched my blinds shut. Why did boys have to be so stupid?

Marcus

I
pulled into the driveway, Killer on the passenger seat, his head hanging out the window. As soon as I stopped my Jeep, he started barking uncontrollably.

“Shut up, dude!” I told him, and he whimpered and sat on his hind legs. Cocked his head to the side and gave me a look as if to say, “what did I do?” German Shepherds had a way of communicating with you. They had their own personalities, and I knew what he was thinking at all times. Sometimes they acted just like little kids.

I hopped out of my truck, and Killer hopped out behind me. Justin spotted me and started pedaling his bike toward me at full speed.

“Marcus!” he yelled, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Killer.

I recognized the fear in his eyes and said, “He won't hurt you, little man.”

Killer ran toward Justin, jumped up on him and knocked him off of his bike. Justin yelled. “Stop!”

“He just trying to play with you, man.” I laughed. “Killer! Leave him alone.”

He continued to jump up on Jason.

“Killer, sit!” I yelled once more, this time in a deep voice that let him know that I wasn't playing.

At the sound of my voice, Killer moved away from Justin and innocently rubbed up against my leg. “Stop playing so much, dude.” I rubbed his head and he began to whimper like a child again.

“I'm scared of him, Marcus. He's so big.”

“He won't hurt you, man. He's just a puppy.” I continued to rub Killer's head.

“A puppy?” Justin's eyes grew big.

“Yeah, he's just big for his age.” I laughed. “He just wants you to play with him. Here, rub his head like this.”

Justin reached his hand out reluctantly toward Killer's head. Rubbed the top of it, smoothing his golden mane.

“Here, rub him under here, too,” I said, telling Justin to rub Killer under his chin, just the way he liked it.

Slowly, he touched Killer under his chin.

“See he won't hurt you, little man. He likes that,” I said. “He wasn't trying to hurt you, he just wanted to play.”

Justin began to relax and so did Killer.

“Why you call him Killer?” he asked.

“Because if he doesn't like you, he's trained to attack.”

“Has he ever attacked somebody, Marcus?”

“Just a mailman once.” I laughed. “He likes just about everybody, though.”

After Justin let his guard down, he and Killer started running around the yard. Justin would run just to see if he would chase him, and of course he did. Then Justin would throw a tennis ball, and Killer would take off after it, bringing it back and dropping it at Justin's feet. Justin would throw it again, and Killer would fetch. They were okay after that.

“Hey there, Marcus.” Beverly held the door opened, a silk scarf wrapped around her head.

“Hi, Miss Beverly,” I said.

“That your dog?” She asked, and I nodded. “He bite?”

“No, ma'am. He's harmless.” I smiled. “He's still a baby.”

“That big old dog is just a baby?” she asked, stepping out onto the porch to get a better look at Killer. “How old?”

“Seven months,” I told her. “Shepherds grow fast.”

“I suppose so,” she said. “You care for something to eat? I fried some chicken.”

“That sounds really tempting, but my stepmother, Gloria, gets really upset if I don't eat at home. She thinks I don't like her cooking.”

“Do you?”

“I can't stand her cooking.” Beverly and I both laughed.

“Well, your daddy loves to eat. How he end up with a woman who can't cook?” She laughed harder.

“I don't know, Miss Beverly.”

“Well, you can eat here and at home.” She smiled. “Just one piece won't hurt a thing.”

Beverly disappeared into the house, the place where those wonderful mouth-watering smells were coming from. You could smell the seasonings a block away, and I couldn't wait to sink my teeth into a piece of that fried chicken. Gloria never fried chicken; said that it was unhealthy and claimed that it was the reason that black folks died from high blood pressure. She baked everything in the oven; chicken, fish, even French fries. Everything! I was sure that from time to time, my pop wished he could go back to his New Orleans roots just for a day and taste some of those Cajun seasonings that he grew up on. My grandmother and mother deep-fried everything. Even the turkey on Thanksgiving was deep-fried.

“Can we take Killer for a walk, Marcus?” Justin asked.

“We need to get started on your homework first, little man. That's why I'm here. To help you out.”

“I know, but can we just go for a quick walk?”

“Work first, and then we play,” I said. “Now go get your math book, so we can get started. If it's not too late when we're finished, we'll take Killer for a walk.”

“Aw, man.”

“Don't get mad. We have to get the important stuff out of the way first.” I sounded like my pop. I guess he was rubbing off on me.

Justin ran into the house to grab his math book, almost knocking his mother over as she opened the door carrying a piping hot chicken leg wrapped in a paper towel. Handed it to me.

“Here you go, Marcus.” She smiled. “And there's plenty more where that came from.”

“Thank you.”

Justin and I sat side by side in the rocker on the porch. He opened his math book, handed me his worksheet.

“This is what we had to do today. Problems one through eight. And they were hard, too.”

I scanned the worksheet to make sure Justin had worked the problems correctly. Got distracted as three cute girls walked past the house, giggling and talking loud. Girls were always exaggerating their actions, laughing when there was nothing really that funny, and trying to be seen when boys were around.

“Hey, Sasha,” Beverly yelled to the cappuccino-colored girl with shoulder-length brown hair.

“Hi, Miss Beverly.” The girl waved. “Hey, Justin.”

“Hey.” Justin barely opened his mouth, as he looked up at her.

She was cute, and I couldn't stop staring.

“Come here, Sasha, I got somebody I want you to meet,” Beverly said.

She walked toward the porch as her friends waited at the curb. As she got closer, I got a better look at her light brown eyes and perfectly white teeth.

“Hey, sweetie pie.” Sasha pinched Justin's cheek, and he looked embarrassed.

He was blushing like crazy and trying to play it off. It was obvious he had a crush on her. Reminded me of the crush I once had on Mrs. Banks, my fifth grade teacher. She was so fine. She would squeeze my cheeks and tell me how cute I was. She didn't know it, but I had secretly made her my girlfriend.

“Oh, he's trying to act shy,” Beverly said. “Why you trying to act shy in front of Sasha, Justin?”

He shrugged his shoulders. I knew! Because he thought she was hot.

“Well, we both know that he's not.” Sasha smiled, and that's when I noticed her cute little dimples.

“Sasha, this is Marcus. He's Justin's tutor,” Beverly said. “Marcus, Sasha watches Justin for me in the evenings until I can get home from work. She watches him for me sometimes on the weekend too.”

“How you doing? Nice to meet you,” I said.

“You, too,” she said. “You go to Douglas?”

“George Washington Carver.”

“Oh. Our football team is playing y'all next Saturday. Homecoming game.”

“I know.” I smiled. “And we plan on winning, too.”

“I doubt it. Carver sucks,” she said. “You play football?”

“No.”

“What grade you in?”

“Tenth,” I said, and felt like I was being sized up. “What about you?”

“I'm in the eleventh,” she boasted. An older woman, I thought.

Killer raised up and rubbed up against Sasha's leg. I guess he knew quality when he saw it. She didn't flinch, just started rubbing him underneath his chin. She wasn't scared of him like most people were when they first met Killer. He usually scared the crap out of everyone, especially girls. The only other girl who wasn't scared of Killer was Indigo. When he barked at her, she told him shut up before she knocked his teeth out. That only made me more attracted to her. A girl who could play basketball in the middle of the street with a bunch of guys and talk junk to a German Shepherd like that was not an ordinary girl. She was extraordinary.

I wondered if Sasha could play ball as I checked out her smooth legs. There weren't any muscles in her legs like in Indigo's. Indigo's legs looked as if she did squats every day. They were strong and muscular.

“He likes her,” Justin said.

I wanted to tell him that I did, too, but I played it cool. I turned my attention back to Justin's homework.

“Well, I gotta go,” she said, bouncing back down the stairs. “I'll see you tomorrow Justin.”

“Okay,” Justin said.

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” she said to me, and then joined her friends who were waiting at the curb.

I watched as they walked to the corner and then turned down the next block. Watched until I could no longer see them.

Tutoring Justin might not be that bad after all, I thought.