It's All Good (13 page)

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Authors: Nikki Carter

BOOK: It's All Good
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21
“M
om, I need to talk to you,” I say to Gwen as she cuts out recipes.
She sets her extra-large scissors down. “Sure.”
Sidebar. I don't know what my mom thinks she's doing with those recipes. Grandma Stokes always comes from her sister's house in Chicago to cook for us during the Christmas holiday. She brings us presents and cooks. That's what she does—it gives her life meaning.
“Ma, what are you cooking?”
She smiles. “I want to surprise my mama and Aunt Penny by cooking everything this year. I want Mama to just relax.”
“But Grandma loves cooking! She's even letting me and Hope help this year.”
“Gia, your grandmother is getting older and her arthritis is causing her more pain than she wants to admit. So I'm cooking. You and Hope can help me if you want.”
I take a huge swallow. “Is there a plan B?”
My mother slams a recipe down on the table. “Did you come to insult my cooking? I thought you wanted to talk about something.”
“Sorry, Mom. I do want to talk.”
“Then talk.”
“There's no easy way for me to ask this, so I'll just say it. Will you and Aunt Elena please consider letting Sascha Cohen back into the PGP program?”
“We've already made our final decision.”
“She came to me and Hope and told us that PGP was the only reason she was keeping her virginity. She seemed desperate about it, actually.”
My mom bites her lip thoughtfully. “Well, then she is going to give it up sooner rather than later. It's got to be about more than a cotillion, Gia. We talked about that in class, remember?”
“I do, and I told Sascha that. But I think she's just trying to hold on, Mom.”
My mother is quiet for a few long moments. I can tell she's torn about the whole thing. Maybe she's thinking about all the stuff she missed out on when she was pregnant in high school.
She says, “We have to portray a positive image for all of the girls, Gia. I'm sorry.”
I shake my head angrily. I didn't think she would budge on this, but I had to try. I don't agree at all, but I guess it doesn't matter what we think, because we're just kids. We don't know anything, right?
I
was
about to tell her about Valerie's mother, but I change my mind. My mom is not being very helpful right now, and I'm sure she would make that whole thing even worse.
I get up from the kitchen table. “Mom, I'm going out with Hope and Ricky.”
“Where are you all going?”
“Up to Easter Hill Park. He's teaching me how to drive a little.”
Mom smiles. “Ricky is brave.”
“He's sick of me bumming rides from him.”
“Well, you'll still be bumming rides until you get a car, and the way you sporadically work for Mother Cranford, that's not going to happen anytime soon.”
“About that, Mom—now that I'm seventeen, can I please get a real job at the mall? I want to work at the movie theater.”
My mom had to know this conversation was coming. I need to make some real cash for senior year! Prom, senior class pictures, our trip—all cost the benjamins.
“Let's see what your SAT scores are, and then we'll decide.”
“Okay!” This is not exactly a yes, but it's pretty darn close!
“Wait. Didn't you all sign up for a summer program at the beginning of the school year?”
Man! I totally forgot about the hotness that is the summer enrichment program at Columbia University. It's an outreach program for urban kids, to get them interested in attending an Ivy League school. Ricky, Kevin, and I all signed up, but Hope said there was no way she was spending the summer doing schoolwork.
“We won't hear anything on that until the spring.”
Gwen nods. “Okay, so when we find out, then we'll decide on the job.”
“Mom! If I go to the program won't I need money in New York City?”
“Your uncle will give you money for that. He'll be proud of you.”
My mother has an advanced degree in stalling. I know what this is about anyway. Me getting a real job is just another sign that I'm growing up, and I don't think she can deal. What is she going to do when I get ready to leave for college?
Ricky's horn blares outside. “That's them, Mom. I'll see you later.”
I run outside and jump into the front seat. The first thing I notice is that there is only Ricky and no Hope.
“Where's Hope?” I ask.
“She asked me to drop her off at the library.”
I can feel my heart racing. “So it's just going to be the two of us?”
He pulls away from the curb. “Yep. Is that cool with you?”
I'm feeling something and it's most definitely not cool. Trying to calm down here. This is Ricky—my homie, my ace. My crush.
This is totally in violation of my mom's rules. No one-on-one dating to her means no alone time with a crush. Period. I know this and still I'm rationalizing with myself. Because, for real, Ricky is not just a crush. He's my best friend who's teaching me to drive.
“Are you all right, Gia?” Ricky asks.
Can he tell that I'm having a severe multisystem failure over here? Dang! I've got to work on that obvious thing I've got going on.
“I'm cool. Why?”
“Well, number one, you didn't answer my first question, and two, you're never this quiet.”
“Oh, yeah. It's cool, Ricky. I've just got a lot on my mind.”
“Wanna share?”
“I don't think I have to tell you that the following reveals are secrets, but I'm saying it anyway.”
Ricky nods. “Okay. My lips are sealed.”
Dang! Why'd he have to say something about his lips? Those perfectly shaped unchapped lips that kissed me on my birthday? What part of the game is this?
Okay ... I am not going to fall to pieces here.
“So Valerie's mom is stalking Susan Chiang on Facebook.”
“What! How?” Ricky sounds as shocked as I did when I found out.
“She's posing as a boy and saying horrible things to her.”
“What kinds of horrible things?”
“Racist stuff.”
Ricky shakes his head. “Y'all have proof that it's her mom?”
“Yeah. The profile pic is of Valerie's cousin Javier, who lives in Puerto Rico and doesn't speak a lick of English, and Valerie found a letter in her mom's trash can that was posted on Facebook.”
“You telling somebody?”
I shrug. “Why do I always have to tell? Jewel and Kelani say that I'm known for snitching.”
“No. You're known for doing the right thing. I admire you for that.”
“You do?”
“Yep.”
This makes me smile. I'm a total sucker for compliments like this. Most boys say stuff like, “You're fly, ma.” But Ricky gets who I am on the inside, and that is so much more important to me.
He pulls into a parking spot in the park and gets out of the car.
“You ready?” he asks. “Let's switch.”
The good thing about today's driving lesson is that even though it's cold outside, there's no snow on the ground. We haven't had a good snow since November, so we're due. Since I've been alive I can only think of one time we didn't have a white Christmas.
I move over and get behind the steering wheel and Ricky gets in on the other side. I'm going to conquer my fear and do this.
“Okay, Gia. What's first?”
“Um ... seat belt.”
I lock my seat belt and put both hands on the steering wheel.
“How are your feet positioned?” Ricky asks.
“Left over the brake. Right over the gas.”
Ricky's eyes bulge out of the sockets. “Gia. You drive with one foot. Your right. Move the left foot from the pedal.”
“So how will I stop?” I ask, with fright dripping from my vocals.
“You'll take your foot off the gas and press the brake,” Ricky explains.
Okay, how am I supposed to remember all of this? I have to watch the road, check the mirrors, flick on the turn signal
and
remember to switch my foot? No, ma'am. I will ride the bus, thank you very much.
I unbuckle my seat belt and open the door. “Never mind, Ricky. I'm never gonna learn this.”
He laughs. “Come on, Gia. It's not hard. Once you get the hang of it, you won't even think about all this stuff. It'll come naturally.”
“That's okay. I'll catch taxis, bum rides, or walk. I'm good.”
“Wow, I didn't know that my best friend was a quitter.”
Quit? I haven't even started. It doesn't count as quitting if you never begin. Yes, that was a totally random rule. I haven't made up one in a while.
“Not quitting, Ricky. Just postponing. Maybe I'll learn in the spring.”
“Just a few feet down the parking lot, Gia. No turns, nothing fancy. Just put the car in drive, gently press the gas, roll a little bit, and then press the brake.”
“Well ...”
“I'm right here, Gia. I won't let you get hurt.”
This Ricky ‘the protector' person is niiice. I feel my insides getting all gooey at his words.
“Okay.”
I close the door and click the seat belt again. This time I'm determined to drive just a little bit. I check the mirrors, take a deep breath and press my foot down on the brake. Then I shift the gear into drive.
Ricky says, “Whenever you're ready, take your foot off the brake and just roll for a second before you step on the gas.”
I grip the steering wheel and try to hold my hands steady, but they keep trembling. Very, very slowly, I remove my foot from the brake pedal and the car rolls a little bit.
“Should I press the gas now?” I ask.
“If you're ready.”
“Okay.”
I take one last deep breath, and press down. Wait! Am I pressing too hard? Why are we going this fast?
“Gia! Ease up!”
“How do I ease up?”
We're running out of parking lot here!
“Take your foot off the gas, but don't ...”
I take my foot off the gas and slam on the brake pedal. The tires screech and we lurch forward in our seats. I'm glad we are both wearing our seat belts. Safety first.
Ricky exhales. “I was going to say, don't slam on the brake.”
“Well, we're stopped now. How did I do?” I think I already know the answer to this question.
“You just need some practice, ma. You'll get it.”
I crack a tiny smile. “Are you going to keep teaching me?”
“Yes, but I'm wearing a helmet next time.”
“Hahahaha. Jokes!”
22
H
ope and I have been at the mall all day, trying to find an appropriate Christmas gift for Ricky. Seriously, what do you buy for your BFF who's almost made it to boo status? Exactly! We don't know either.
“What about a sweater?” I ask.
“No. Too boring. He's not your uncle, Gia.”
“Well, then what? Cologne?”
Hope laughs. “No! That's not sentimental enough.”
“But I do like it when he smells good.”
Hope shakes her head adamantly. “Absolutely not.”
“Tennis shoes?”
“My mother says that if you buy a man shoes, then he'll walk right out of your life.”
“Are you kidding me? So she's never bought Pastor Stokes a pair of shoes?”
Hope shrugs. “I think that only applies to when you're dating someone.”
This is crazy! Boys are too hard. There's a ton of girlie stuff you can buy me. Especially when I love Tweety so much. Ricky has lots of choices.
“I know! You can buy him a giant key and say it's the key to your heart!” Hope squeals this as if it is a great plan.
Gag on top of gag. But then again, this is coming from the girl who writes twenty-page letters in purple ink. What can I expect?
“Hope, there is no way I'm doing something as lame as that. No, ma'am.”
“Okay, then just get him that stupid, boring wallet that we saw earlier.”
The wallet was not stupid or boring. It was leather and it was nice. Ricky needs a wallet. He's always got his money balled up in his pocket.
Hope asks, “What does Ricky like more than anything else?”
“Sports,” I reply.
“So why not get him something sports related?”
I ponder this for a second. “Ricky will look scrumptili-cious in a Tennessee Titans jersey.”
“Why the Titans? Isn't Ricky a Browns fan?”
“He likes the Titans too, and I just pictured him in that Titans blue and navy blue. Niiiice.”
“E www, Gia. You are out of control.”
“Come on, let's see if they have a good one in Foot Locker. We can get a hat to match at Lids, too.”
Hope laughs. “Dang, you're breaking the bank on your little boo, huh. What's everybody else getting?”
I shrug. “Umm ... let's hit the dollar store before we leave.”
Hope bursts into giggles. “Wow!”
We start toward the Foot Locker, which is, of course, at the other end of the mall. On our way over, we see a pack of Longfellow Spartans girls. Mostly rally girls, but some not. Hope waves, and they all rush our way.
“Dang, Hope! You know I'm on a mission,” I fuss, not wanting to stop and have girl talk.
“Chill out, Gia. We know what we're getting now. We've been running around here for hours looking at stupid stuff. I need a break.”
As the girls approach, I can tell that something isn't right. Sascha is crying. Oh, wow. So not in the mood for a crying girl today, not in the middle of my power shopping.
“Sascha! What's wrong?” Hope runs to her and gives her a hug.
“It's not me!” Sascha wails. “It's Susan. She's in the hospital.”
“What?” I ask. “Is she hurt?”
Cecile, another of the rally girls, says, “She took a bunch of pills and wrote her mom a letter saying that she doesn't want to live anymore.”
“Why would she do something like that?” Hope asks.
Sascha replies, “Some boy that she met on Facebook told her to do it. She really liked him, and she thought he liked her too. But then he started being really mean and told her that she should have never been born.”
All of a sudden my legs are wobbly. I stumble over to the nearest bench and sit down. They just told me that Susan tried to commit suicide because someone was teasing her on Facebook. And I know that someone is Valerie's mother.
I have to tell someone now. I have no other choice.
I walk back over to the group. “What hospital is Susan in?”
“Lakeside. But she can't have any visitors.”
She may not be able to have visitors, but the person I'm telling can go into the hospital any time of the day or night without an invitation.
“Come on, Hope. Let's go get this jersey. Call your dad so he can pick us up. I want to talk to him,” I say.
“You sure you don't want to hang with the rally girls for a while, just until everyone is okay?”
I give Hope my most serious glare. “Hope, I need to talk to your dad, like right now. It's an emergency.”
Hope gives an apologetic look to her crew. “I'll catch up with y'all later. Gia is tripping.”
I walk quickly to Foot Locker, with Hope barely able to keep up. When she finally catches me she says, “What was all that about?”
“I know who the boy is on Facebook.”
Hope shakes her head. “No, you don't. It's this guy named Javier, and he doesn't even go to our school.”
“I know. He lives in Puerto Rico, actually, and can't speak any English,” I reply.
“What? That doesn't make any sense! He posts in English all the time.”
“Trust me, I know what I'm talking about, and I need to tell your dad. Pastor Stokes will know what to do.”
“It's Valerie, isn't it?”
I shake my head. “Nope. But I can't tell you who.”
Hope takes out her cell phone and calls her dad. “Daddy, can you come pick us up from the mall? We've finished shopping for today and Gia wants to talk to you about something ... Okay, see you in a few ... Bye, Daddy!”
She looks at me and says, “Okay, my dad is on his way. Satisfied?”
“No, but I will be once I pay for Ricky's jersey.”
I look at the selections on the rack and find a perfect one for Ricky. He wears a large, because he likes a little extra room to layer it with a turtleneck or long sleeve T-shirt. How do I know the size? Because I have stolen many of his jerseys to rock with jeans and jean skirts. Yeah, that sounds like a girlfriend kind of thing to do, but I've been swiping Ricky's clothes since middle school, and there was no romance going on then.
Actually, there's no romance going on now, but we're moving in the right direction, I think. He's trying to be my official boy.
 
Pastor Stokes drops Hope off at home and takes me for ice cream. I love talking to my uncle, because desserts are always involved. He has a sweet tooth and is constantly looking for a good reason to buy something yummy to eat.
We're sitting at the table in the very uncrowded Baskin-Robbins shop. I guess since it is winter time, not too many people are trying to eat ice cream. Pastor has a banana split and I've got a one-scoop sundae.
“So, what's going on, Niecey? What do you want to talk about? Everything okay at home?”
I nod. “Everything is cool. LeRon and Candy are cool, I guess. I think I just had to get used to them.”
“Glad to hear that!” he says with a smile. “So what's bothering you then?”
“A girl in my class tried to commit suicide.”
Pastor gasps. “In your class? Is she okay?”
“She's in Lakeside Hospital. She did it because she thinks a boy was being cruel to her on Facebook.”
Pastor's eyebrows go up, almost forming a straight line on his forehead. “She
thinks
a boy was being cruel? Was he not being mean to her?”
“Oh, he was being mean, but he isn't really a he.”
“Ah. Is there some girl tormenting the young lady?”
I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and scratch my head. I know that once I say this, I can't take it back. And it's going to be all bad for Valerie's mom once I say something.
“It's not a girl, Pastor. It's my friend's mother.”
“What! Which friend, Gia?”
“It's Valerie's mom, Mrs. Lopez. She's pretending to be a teenage boy on Facebook.”
Pastor shakes his head. “And a young girl tried to kill herself over that?”
“Yes. I'm afraid Valerie's mom won't stop.”
“Why would she do something like this?”
I shrug. “First, I think she was angry that Valerie didn't win the Homecoming Queen title. But then, I think she was mad that Mr. and Mrs. Chiang came up to the school and embarrassed her.”
“I have never heard anything so crazy in my entire life,” Pastor says.
“Valerie is going to be so mad at me. I doubt she'll want to be friends with me anymore once this comes out.”
Pastor sighs. “Gia, do you think that Valerie or her mother wanted someone to die over this?”
“No, I hope not.”
“Well, then they have to know that this has gotten totally out of control. Don't worry. I'm going to call up to the hospital and talk to the Chiangs. I won't even bring your name up.”
“Thank you, Pastor.”
I feel relief rush over me like a wave at the beach. Not one of the tiny ones that just tickle your toes, I'm talking the wave that picks you up off the ground and throws you onto the sand.
Yeah, super relieved.
Because I know that my uncle is not going to drop this, and he's going to do the right thing. I kinda feel like it's my fault that it went this far, because maybe I should've told my uncle from the jump.
“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” Pastor Stokes asks.
I take a very long pause. Should I mention the whole Sascha thing? I think my mom would completely flip out if I go over her head to my uncle to get Sascha back into PGP. But she and my aunt are not listening to reason. Hmmm ... I think I'll wait to ask him about this. He'll be my last resort.
“Umm ... that I want an iTunes gift card for Christmas?”
He smiles. “You kids and those little iPods! I'll get you a gift card if you promise to only download gospel songs.”
I scrunch up my nose. “How about if I download one gospel song.”
“Deal. You drive a hard bargain, Gia.”
I give my uncle a fist pound. “Thank you, sir. Good doing business with you!”

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