Kendra (9 page)

It’s weird because, even though I know what’s happening, can feel everything, it’s like I’m not really there. It’s like I’m watching somebody else. Not me.

His hands are on my waist, holding me against the wall as he’s kissing me. This isn’t the first time I kissed a guy. I did it before, back in sixth and seventh grade when us girls used to play games with the boys from Bronxwood, but feeling how Nashawn is kissing me now, with his tongue all deep in my mouth, I know this is my first
real
kiss.

And I’m kissing him back, too. It don’t matter that I don’t really know what I’m doing. I’m just going with it.

When his hands start undoing the zipper on my jeans, I just let him. I even help him take them off me. Then, when he pulls my panties down, I step outta them, too. Fast. Without even thinking.

It’s like whatever he wants to do, I’m gonna do it, no problem. No resistance, no matter where his hands go or what they do. Like it’s something I do every day.

And this goes on for a while, with me and him up against the wall, ’til finally he’s leading me over to a big table in the middle of the room. My eyes have adjusted a little bit and I can see him move a couple of chairs outta the way. Then he lifts me up and puts me on the table, facing him.

I wrap my legs around him to keep him as close to me as possible, and we kiss some more. Then I hear him unzip his jeans. And finally I shake my head, trying to wake myself up, and whisper, “I can’t. My grandmother, she’s gonna, um, have me checked.”

I can barely make out his expression even though his face isn’t even an inch away from mine. “Checked?”

“You know. By the doctor.” His hands are all over me, making it hard to concentrate on what I’m trying to say. “To see if I’m still a, um, virgin.”

But that don’t stop him for a second. He’s breathing heavy in my ear and says, “I need a blow job.” And he picks me up off the table.

And, just like that, I do it. I listen to him tell me what to do and how, and all I wanna do is keep him there with me. For as long as I can.

And then he’s done. I stand up and wanna say something to make this last a little longer, but I can’t think of anything. A few seconds later, his pants are zipped back up and his hands aren’t on me anymore. “I left my duffel bag in the hall,” he says, talking fast. “I don’t want someone to steal it.”

And then he’s gone. And me, I’m just standing there, in the middle of the teachers’ lounge, half dressed, still trying to catch my breath.

I find my panties and jeans in the darkness and put my clothes on, taking my time, not sure that what just happened was real, not a dream. When I get back out in the hallway, it’s empty.

I walk to the staircase, slow, listening to the sound of my own footsteps. And as I leave the building, I know for a fact that, for the first time in my life, I have no idea what I’m doing.

Back at Bronxwood, I get off the bus and walk with my head down toward my building. It’s getting dark out, but practically every kid in the projects is outside, running around or on bikes or scooters. Screaming and laughing like they lost their minds or something.

It wasn’t all that long ago that me, Adonna, and some other girls used to be outside like that, jumping double dutch or roller-skating, or just sitting on a bench waiting for the ice cream truck to come around. And even back then, Adonna used to be snapping on people all the time. Nothing too mean. She would just try to get everyone to laugh, which we did. That’s the kinda fun I miss sometimes, because that was the easy kinda fun. Not like now.

I walk fast from the bus stop, hoping to get upstairs without having to talk to anyone. When I pass by Kenny’s truck I wave to him, but I don’t stop or even slow down. He waves back and smiles, and good thing he has a couple of customers and don’t have time to ask me to come over and talk to him. Because I
don’t think I could talk to him like nothing just happened. I can’t even look him in the eye with the way I’m feeling.

In the elevator, as I get closer and closer to the fifteenth floor, there’s too much going on in my mind. It’s like I’m fighting with myself to not think, but I can’t. It’s impossible. I mean, I can still feel Nashawn’s hands on my body, and it’s like every place he touched me isn’t only mine anymore. Everything feels different now.

Nana is on the phone when I get into the apartment. “Hold on,” she says when she sees me coming through the door. “She just came in.” She holds out the phone for me. “Here. It’s Renée. She wants to talk to you.”

I shake my head and keep walking right past her down the hall. I go straight into the bathroom, then slam and lock the door behind me. The last thing I’m in the mood for is one of Renée’s excuses. I don’t even wanna hear her voice right now. I can’t deal with it.

I can’t deal with anything.

I sit on the side of the bathtub, put my head in my hands, and cry hard without making any sound. My chest feels heavy and full, and it’s hard to breathe. I feel so stupid and disgusted with myself that I can’t keep it inside anymore. I wanna scream.

What’s the matter with me? Why would I do something like that? I’m not even like that.

I run the water in the tub, take off my clothes, and make sure not to look in the mirror, because I can’t face myself right now. All I wanna do is wash Nashawn off me, fast, before Nana gets a good look at me. Because the truth is, she been waiting for this, and she’s gonna know what I been up to. She’s gonna
know that some boy been touching on me. Like, there’s probably fingerprints on my body only she can see.

Later, while I’m in the bathtub, sitting in the soapy water, Nana knocks on the door. “You okay, Babe?” she asks.

It takes me a second to answer, to make my voice sound normal. “Um, yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure? You been in there a long time now.”

“I’m coming out in a minute.”

She knows
, I tell myself.
She’s not stupid. She has to know something’s up
.

I hear her trying to turn the doorknob. “Is this door locked?”

“Is it?” I ask. But my voice don’t sound right. It’s too high. She’s gonna know I’m acting weird. I know she is. “Oh, I’m sorry, Nana. I didn’t mean to lock it.” I stand up and step outta the tub. “Hold on.”

I wipe my eyes and wrap a towel around me. Then I look at myself in the mirror, thinking,
Do I look the same? I’m not sure. I can’t tell anymore
.

When I open the door, Nana is standing there with her arms folded. Her eyes don’t look at me. They look
into
me. Like she’s investigating me, analyzing me. At first she don’t say anything, but the silence is enough to make me nervous, especially since I can’t think of anything to say to her.

So I turn away from her and pick my clothes up off the floor. With my back turned to her, she asks, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I say, still not looking at her. “I just needed to take a bath. I felt so—” I almost say
dirty
. “I felt so sweaty from all the cleaning up we had to do after the show.”

Nana is quiet, like she’s waiting for me to say something else.

“I feel so much better now,” I say, balling up all the clothes and putting them in the hamper.

“Why didn’t you want to talk to Renée? She wanted to explain to you what happened.”

I shrug. “It don’t matter.” I try, but I can’t keep my voice from cracking a little bit. “It’s just a school play.”

I walk past her, outta the bathroom and into my room, and she follows behind me.

“She said there was a lot of traffic,” Nana says. “You know how those highways get, especially on a Sunday when everyone’s coming home from their weekend trips.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

I search through my drawer for some pajamas to put on.

“How was the last show?” she asks, still staring at me funny. “Anything happen?”

She’s not asking about the show. We both know that.

“No, nothing unusual. We got a standing ovation.”

“What took you so long to get home?”

“The bus,” I say. She’s still giving me that look, like she’s trying to read me. “Um, can I get dressed for bed now? And I have a lot of homework I didn’t do all weekend.”

She stands there for a few seconds and I have to look away, it’s so uncomfortable. Finally, she says, “Okay. But make sure you come get some dinner.”

“I’m not hungry. Um, I got a slice at the pizza shop near the bus stop. I’m full.”

More staring. Then, “Well, okay. Get your homework done. Renée’s going to be home tonight. I hope she don’t get in too late, because she needs to get herself a full night’s sleep.” She’s talking to herself again. “That girl’s in the real world now,
not college. She’s a working woman. And when you’re working, you can’t function on no sleep. You know what I mean?”

“Yes, Nana,” I say.

“Well, okay, then,” she says and walks outta the room real slow. I close the door behind her, not really sure how I got outta that. I mean, if Nana suspects something about what I did, at least she’s keeping it to herself. For now. And that’s a good thing.

I thought I would hear music when I woke up the next morning. And singing. But instead there’s nothing. Only the pounding in my own head.

I have the worst headache I ever had. I mean, I could feel the pain in and outta my sleep. It’s the kinda pain that you can feel behind your eyes where your whole skull feels like it’s gonna break apart or something. I can hardly even pick my head up from the pillow.

So I lay there, trying to relax so the pain will go away, but I can’t stop my brain from thinking and thinking about everything. I’m thinking about Renée and how she didn’t bother coming to the showcase last night, even when she knew how important it was to me. And, of course, I’m thinking about Nashawn, too. About what almost happened between me and him.

And what
did
happen.

It’s too much, what’s going on in my head. But if I lay here all day, I’m only gonna drive myself even more crazy, that’s for
sure. And I have to do something to get rid of this headache. So I get up and go out to the kitchen, where Nana is sitting having breakfast. The green tea is back.

I sit down at the table and rub my forehead, feeling kinda dizzy.

“You okay?” Nana asks me.

“Headache,” I say. “It’s bad.”

She gets up from her chair. “Let me get you something for that.”

She leaves the kitchen, and I sit there hoping she don’t take too long because I don’t know how long I can take this hammering that’s going on behind my eyes. She comes back fast with a packet of Goody’s Headache Powder. She’s kinda oldfashioned when it comes to medicine, and even though I hate the way the powders taste, they
do
work faster than regular aspirin. I pour the powder on my tongue, and Nana hands me a glass of water from the tap to wash it down with. “Let me make you some tea,” she says. “It’ll help.”

I sit still, waiting for the powder to work, trying not to think too much. But I have to ask, “Where’s Renée?”

“Oh, she called late last night,” Nana says, putting water in the kettle. “She said she wanted to get off the road, so she stopped off at Gerard’s apartment in Newark. She’s going straight to work from there.”

“Oh,” I say, not really sure what to feel. I mean, Renée already missed my show. There’s nothing more to get upset about now.

“I just hope she gives herself enough time to get to that college this morning,” Nana says to herself, “because she don’t
want to be late on her first day.” She puts the kettle back on the stove and turns on the fire.

Then she comes back over to the table to finish eating. And I just sit there trying to relax. To breathe. I’m not sure it’s gonna work, though, because I still can’t stop
thinking
so much.

Finally, the kettle whistles and Nana gets back up to fix me my green tea. It’s not ’til I’m drinking the nasty stuff that I notice the gym bag on the floor by the radiator.

“Is that yours?” I ask.

She turns to see what I’m looking at. “Oh, yeah,” she says. “I joined Curves with Rhonda from the office. We’re going to work out at lunch hour, three days a week.” She laughs. “Well, that’s the plan.”

“That’s good,” I say, and go back to drinking. But I’m definitely adding this to the evidence file. Not that I need any more.

After a while, Nana tells me to go get ready for school. “Because you’re going to feel better once you get moving,” she says, “and you get some fresh air in your lungs. Come on.”

Part of me wants to stay home and not have to face Nashawn and deal with what happened yesterday. I mean, the thought of seeing him again, in the daytime, and remembering everything we did, I did, is almost too much to deal with. But being home isn’t gonna change that. Because all I’ll do is lay in bed all day worrying if he’s telling everybody about what happened, wondering what he’s saying about me.

It takes me a second to stand up, but I do. And I go to the bathroom real slow. I know I have to do this. I can’t hide forever.

I’m still not dressed when I hear the doorbell ring. I’m still sitting on my bed, putting some lotion on my legs since I decided to wear my denim skirt to school. Before Adonna gets to my room, I take some deep breaths and remind myself to act natural. Because there’s no way I can let her find out about me and Nashawn. This is one thing I definitely have to keep from her.

“Hey, girl,” she says, coming into my room and sitting next to me on my bed. “Why are you so late today? You’re never late.”

I don’t look at her. I just say, “Headache.”

“Well, I still need you to hurry up. I have to talk to Tanya before homeroom.”

I stand up and go to my dresser, taking out a plain blue T-shirt and pulling it over my head. It feels like I’m moving in slow motion today.

“Where’s Renée?” Adonna asks with that tone in her voice. “She come to the showcase last night?”

“No,” I say, not looking at her, tucking the T-shirt into my skirt. “She got stuck in traffic coming home from Maryland.”

Adonna sighs real loud.

“Adonna,” I say. “Can you please just stop?”

“I didn’t even say anything.”

I shake my head, which only makes it hurt more.

Nana sticks her head in the door and asks, “Feeling any better?”

I shrug. “Not really.”

“You will. Give the medicine some time to work.” She looks over what I’m wearing and nods a little bit. The skirt isn’t too short and my T-shirt isn’t too tight. So I guess I’m just right. “Okay,” she says. “Hurry up and don’t be late for school.”

I hear her walk back down the hallway. And then the front door opens and closes. And right away I pull the T-shirt off and start looking through my dresser for something better. The cute pink top with the square neckline is perfect. I put it on and see Adonna smiling at me outta the corner of my eye.

Between Nana and her, I can’t help but feel like everybody’s judging me all the time. Like it’s up to them to approve of what I’m wearing or doing. And when it comes to Adonna, I always feel like I’m a project to her, something to fix up or make over. And it’s not just my clothes, either. With her it’s everything. It’s
me
.

“Here,” Adonna says, reaching into her book bag and pulling out a lip gloss. “Try this. It’s called Betrayal.”

I take the lip gloss from her and put it on. It’s a little darker than the one she’s wearing, but it looks good on me. Makes me look a little older.

Adonna leans forward on the bed. “You know that girl Pam, the one with all the teeth and gums?”

“Hmm,” I say, because I know Adonna’s about to go into one of her stories again.

“Well, let me tell you what happened Saturday when I saw her at the movies in Bay Plaza.”

As Adonna goes on and on, I put on my sandals, then stand up to comb my hair back into one of my I-really-need-a-touch-up-
bad
ponytails. My mind is all over the place. I don’t know how I’m gonna do it, walk into that school like nothing happened yesterday. And what am I gonna do if I run into Nashawn at our lockers or in the cafeteria? Say hi like we weren’t naked together, like, twelve hours ago? I probably won’t even be able to look at him.

And how am I gonna handle it if everybody knows?

Adonna is still talking. “And when she got up off the floor, girlfriend had popcorn in her hair and butter stains on her ass! It was so funny. You should have been there.”

“I was doing the showcase, remember?” I say, so she won’t know I missed her whole story. “And I never get to go anywhere.”

I’m putting in my earrings when Adonna asks, “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing,” I say, not looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Why?”

“’Cause you’re acting weird.”

“I have a headache,” I tell her again. “Remember?” I grab my book bag off the floor. And I even remember to take my jacket this time. “Let’s go.”

But before I leave, I take one last look at myself in the mirror. I don’t really look the same anymore, and it’s not just the lip gloss. I kinda look nice. Pretty. And I’m wondering if I always looked this way or if I really changed.