Losing Romeo (6 page)

Anjenai—Ex-Boy to the Next Boy

Where
in the hell is Tyler?
I can't imagine her skipping out on basketball practice. It's one of the few things she likes about this school. Frankly speaking, I think we're the strongest members of the team.

On cue, the assistant coach blows his whistle and instructs us on a few warm-up exercises. I take another glance around before doing a few stretches and then a couple of laps around the court.

“Hey!” Daniella, a six-foot thirteen-year-old, catches my attention before jogging up next to me. “Where's your girl at?”

“I don't know. I don't think I've seen her since this morning.”

“Oh.” She falls silent for a long stretch, and then she asks, “So, what do you think about being on the team so far?”

I shrug. “It's okay.”

Again, she falls silent for a while, and I suspect that I'm being set up for something.

“Sooo are you still getting private lessons from Romeo?”

There it is.
I cut my eyes over at her. “Look, if you came over here to pump some gossip out of me, then you're wasting your time.”

“Damn! I was just asking you a question.” She mean mugs me and then speeds up to start whispering loudly to the group of girls running ahead of me. I roll my eyes and keep my pace. I swear, the girls in this school are working my nerves.

Today's practice turns out to be no joke. Coach Whittaker works us so hard, my clothes are drenched in sweat and I have muscles talking to me in places I never knew existed. But I do think that I'm improving, if the smile on Coach Whittaker's face is anything to judge by. The awkwardness I once felt with the fundamentals is quickly fading away.

I'm starting to feel like a natural on the court and even reveling in my ability to be aggressive with the plays the coach calls out. Off court, people tend to dismiss me as the shy and geeky girl between Tyler and Kierra. There's a little truth to that. Though I do know how to open a can of whupass from time to time. I have to, judging by how many times I have to jump into some foolishness that Tyler is in the middle of.

But on the court it seems like I've been given some sort of pass that allows me to work out pent-up frustrations, which I happen to have a lot of lately. Running, shoulder bumping, trash-talking. I feel so good flying down the court that I attempt my first slam dunk. The exhilaration of flying through the air and then watching the ball whish
through the net is just beautiful. In that one second, I feel like I'm on top of the world. My scrimmage team roars with applause.

Coach Whittaker blows her whistle, and when I look over my shoulder at her I see her entire face lit up.

“Way to go, Anjenai!” She tucks her clipboard under her arm and joins in the applause. “Excellent play. But I need you to open up and be aware of your teammates and pass the ball. Daniella was wide open. Some of the best plays are the safe plays.”

Was she? Hell, I didn't even notice, I was so in my own zone. I take the praise/criticism in stride and remind myself to do better. All in all, it turns out to be a great practice. I just hate that Tyler missed it. My scrimmage team is still giving me high fives and pats of congratulations as we head toward the locker room. After a shower and change back into my school clothes, I head toward the football field where the freshman cheerleading squad is practicing.

I wave to Kierra just as she's detaching from the group. Since we don't exactly have anyone who can pick us up, on days we have practice we walk the long blocks down to the closest city bus and go through a long series of transfers to ride back to our side of town. “Hey, girl. You about ready to head out of here?”

“Yeah. You already hit the shower?” she asks, frowning.

“Had to. Sorry. But I'll wait for you while you take yours.”

“Great. 'Cuz I'm not about to get on a city bus smelling all funkdafied.”

Even though she laughs, I get the feeling that something isn't quite right. “Are you okay?” I ask.

“Huh? Yeah. I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

I get the sense that she's lying, but I shrug anyway. “No reason.”

She flashes me another smile. “C'mon. Let's go.”

When we turn to head back to the gym I almost plow straight into Kwan's chest. “Oh!”

He smiles. “Sorry if I frightened you.”

I step back and smile myself. He really does look like Trey Songz. “It's all right. I just need to make sure I look where I'm going.”

His tongue slides across his lips and my heart starts fluttering. I'm surprised by this sudden warming in my lower belly. Those droopy eyes and two dimples are really working for him. “You know, I don't think that I properly introduced myself today in class. The name is Kwan.”

I glance over at Kierra, and she has a look that is clearly asking for the 411.

“I'm Anjenai,” I finally say.

“Believe me, I know. I've been asking around about you.”

“Oh, great. I'm sure that you got an earful.” Kierra and I start walking back toward the gym, but to my surprise Kwan decides to walk along beside me.

“I got the basics and a lot of gossip, but I've never been one to put too much stock in gossip.”

I nod and wonder where he's going with this.

“I saw that slam dunk you did during practice. You're on fire when you're on that court.”

“Thanks,” I say, sounding all shy. Why is this gorgeous guy talking to me?

Kierra jumps into the conversation. “Are you a basketball fan?”

“Yeah. Actually, I have an older brother in the NBA. He plays for the Spurs. Rodney Simmons. Have you ever heard of him?”

“Sorry. I don't know that much about—”

“What, you play basketball like that and you don't even watch the game?”

Now I feel like a complete idiot.

“Well. We'll have to rectify that. Outside of music, my family lives and breathes basketball. You and your girl should come out to my crib. Pre-season games start this week. We can make it a small viewing party.”

Is this a date?
“Well…I, um…”

“Don't worry,” he says, leaning over. “I promise I don't bite. And like I said. You can bring your girl here.”

“Girls,” Kierra says. “There'll be a few of us. Is there a problem with that?”

“Nah. Nah. The more the merrier.” He winks.

But it's his voice I can't seem to get enough of. It's smooth, deep and a little husky all at the same time.

“It's a date,” Kierra answers for me, and I cut my eyes at her for her choice of words. She just shrugs and mouths the word,
“What?”

“Good,” Kwan says. “I look forward to it.”

We stop walking just before entering the gym. At that time, I realize that he's really staring at me. That warm feeling in my stomach is now spreading up to my chest. There's
just something about the way that he's looking at me that's turning my mind into mush. I'm completely thrown off guard because it's just been a couple of weeks since I suffered the biggest embarrassment of my entire life. I'm starting to think I'm fickle or something. How can this new guy be pushing the same buttons that Romeo used to push such a short time ago? What does that mean? And what does it say about me?

“There you are, Kwan!” Bianca bounces her way over to our private circle with a big circus smile that I wish I could just slap off her face. “I've been looking all over the place for you.” Her gaze finally shifts over to me, and I return her fake smile with one of my own.

Bianca's nose twitches. “I thought I smelled something foul out here.”

“Then close your mouth,” Kierra and I snap back in unison.

Kwan snickers while Bianca gives us the stink eye.

“
Anyway,
Kwan. A few of us are heading over to the mall. You want to come?” She is practically slathering herself all over the boy's arm.

I think I'm going to be sick, watching her performance.

“Actually, I was just having a conversation with—”

“C'mon, Kierra,” I say, tugging on her arm. “Let's go.”

“Yeah. Why don't you do that,” Bianca jumps in with her two cents. It's like she's not going to be happy until we slap what little black she has off of her.

Kierra gives me this “Are you crazy?” look, but I ignore it. I don't have any business trying to talk to some new guy
when my heart is still aching over the crap the last one put me through.

Bianca also tugs on Kwan's arm. “It'll be a lot of fun and a good way for you to meet all the
right
people.”

“I don't know,” Kwan says, looking me dead in my eye. “I already think I'm meeting some pretty cool people.” He smiles and I can't help smiling back.

I push Kierra through the gym's back door.

“Don't forget our date,” he calls out to me.

Bianca's face reddens as Kwan finally allows her to pull him away.

“Giiiirrl. That boy got it bad for you,” Kierra says as we march across the gym. “When in the hell did you meet him?”

“Today. He's new.”

“Must be. I don't think I would have forgotten someone like that roaming the halls. Do you know who he looks like?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I try to shoo off all her inquiries. I'm too confused with what's going on with me and wondering if it's too soon to be jumping back out into the frying pan and risking getting burned.

Then again, Romeo certainly didn't waste any time getting back with Phoenix.

Tyler—Misunderstood

“Shoplifting?
You have to be kidding me!” My dad rants and roars while he speeds down the highway.

Sitting in the passenger seat of his rusting black Dodge Intrepid, I try to block out most of what he's going on about and just watch the boring scenery as we make our way home.

“I don't understand,” he continues. “I thought we were doing good. I thought we were finally—” He sucks in a long breath, and I roll my eyes because I know it's just his usual way of counting to ten. From the corner of my eye I see him grip the steering wheel tightly. “Just tell me what happened?”

I don't have an answer for him. Besides, I wasn't the one who shoplifted anything. That was Michelle and Trisha's stupid asses, but since I was with them my ass has to go down in flames, too. My life is filled with shit that isn't my fault. At this point, who cares?

At my silence, my father's jaw tightens. So what? He's
mad and disappointed in me. Now he has a little taste of what I feel about him. Misery loves company, right? I recognize all the emotions that are playing out on his face, and a small part of me wants to laugh in his face and ask him, “How does it feel?” Let's face it. My father has never understood where I'm coming from. He just wants me to be as little trouble as possible.

“So you have nothing to say for yourself. Is that it?”

Silence.

He hits the steering wheel with the palm of his hand and unleashes a string of curses that nearly sets my ears on fire. I guess now I know where I get my temper from.

“I swear I don't know what to do with you anymore,” he spits.

“Why do you have to
do
anything?” I finally spit back.

“Yeah. You're right. I should just kick back and watch you just ruin your life! That's a good idea!”

“I think that you and Mom have already done a good job ruining my life, remember?” I fold my arms with a huff and recast my gaze back out the passenger side window.

“You can't keep using your mother and me as an excuse, Tyler. You're not the only kid whose parents have divorced. Look around. The world does not revolve around you.”

“Oh, trust me. I know that,” I snap.

“Do you? You sure don't act like it. These little prima-donna hissy fits say otherwise. You think if you just lash out that maybe you'll get your way? It doesn't work like that. Hell, even your best friends' parents aren't around. What makes you so damn special that you feel you can run
around breaking the law? You think the judge is going to give a damn?” Silence.

“Look, I get that it's hard. But it's time you learn that
life
is hard. Guess what? It's just going to keep on getting harder. People are going to keep disappointing you. More people are going to leave you. You need to learn how to deal, or life is going to deal with you. Period.”

Silence.

He exhales another long breath and tries again. “Hell, I miss your mother, too, but you don't see me running out here knocking over liquor stores and doing whatever I damn well please because my heart is broken. C'mon. You're smarter than that.”

There's no way I can stop these fat tears from burning my eyes and rolling down my face, so I don't even try.

He's shaking his head as he exits the highway. “You know how much money I've lost today because I had to leave the job and come and get you out of jail?
Jail!
I can't afford this shit!”

“Here we go. Work, work, work!”

“Yes, work! I know at fourteen you think that money grows on trees, but it doesn't. I just spent our rent money posting bail—or maybe you like the idea of us being homeless. Is that it?”

Silence.

“Take another
good
look around, Tyler. Whether you like it or not, money makes the world go around. Money pays the bills, puts clothes on your back and keeps you from
going to sleep hungry. But I guess you don't appreciate that.”

I roll my eyes and wish that he would just shut the hell up. But clearly my silence means he can just keep on ranting.

“Damn, Tyler. I can't do everything. I can't work, provide
and
sit on top of you to make sure that you're doing everything that you're supposed to do. That isn't fair, and you know it! SHOPLIFTING? SMOKING POT?” He hits the steering wheel again. “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH YOU?”

My tears are falling so fast that I close my eyes in an attempt to block everything out. But that's impossible today.

“You've been in high school what—a little less than two months, and you're already a rebel without a cause?”

I feel him whipping the car into Oak Hill Apartments. A few seconds later, he pulls into his usual parking spot. I'm hopping out of the car before he even gets a chance to shut off the engine.

“Tyler!”

I ignore him and rush toward our apartment. I know that he's hot on my tail, and if it wasn't for me having to slow down and fiddle with the damn lock, I would've made it to my bedroom and slammed the door before he could catch up with me. Instead, he grabs me by the arm in the living room and forces me to spin back around.

“You hold on, little girl. We're not through with this discussion.”

“What is there left to say? I'm an expensive, pain-in-the-ass kid. I get it.”

“Why in the hell weren't you in school?”

“I left so I could
steal
and
smoke pot
. I thought that we'd already gone over this?”

My father steps so close to me that I can feel his fiery anger just roll off of him. “Don't. Try. Me. Tyler.” His gaze stabs my own. “I'm not one of these little girls you're always trying to fight, so I suggest you watch that mouth of yours before you write a check your ass can't cash.”

I snatch my arm back. “No, you're not. You're father of the year,” I accuse him. “You're too concerned with your job to even notice that I'm alive.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” He steps back and stares me down. “What? You want attention? Is that what this is all about? Your getting locked up is some desperate cry for my attention?”

I shake my head at him. He doesn't get it. He won't get it. “Just forget it.” I start to turn away, but once again, I'm forced to turn back around.

“We're not finished talking, young lady.” He then proceeds to pull in several deep breaths, trying to calm down, but at this point I don't think that's really possible for either one of us. “I'm trying to talk to you. I've
been
trying to talk to you, but all you give me is either the silent treatment or snappy one-liners. I can't tell if you're trying to be a mute or a comedian.”

“You're not talking to me, you're yelling at me!”

“I think under the current circumstances that I have the right to yell, Tyler! You're doing things I don't understand. Make me understand what's going on with you!”

I do understand his frustration but I can't explain some
thing that I don't understand myself. My emotions are all over the map. At least I know that much. I'm angry all the time, and I don't know what to do about it.

“Talk to me, Tyler.”

How?
How can I talk to him about this huge hole my mother's leaving left in my heart without sounding like some whining baby who doesn't know how to deal with life? Instead of time healing all wounds, it seems like they're just sitting there festering into some incurable disease that's eating me alive.

While these thoughts race around in my head, my father's shoulders collapse in the face of what he undeniably sees as another dose of the silent treatment. He shakes his head.

“So what am I supposed to do now? Huh?” He cocks his head. “Should I get a
babysitter
to watch you in the evenings? Do I need each teacher at that school to call me if you don't show up for class?”

“You do what you have to do,” I say with a smirk.

“I have to do
something.
You have a court date now. You might have to go to juvenile hall. Have you thought about that? Once you're in that system it's all downhill.”

“At least I'll be out of your hair. You can work all the hours your heart desires then.”

He stares at me. “I think you need help. Professional help.”

“Can we
afford
that?”

His eyes narrow while a small vein begins to twitch on his right temple. He starts pacing. “I swear I don't know what to do with you.”

“I think we've already covered that.”

“I don't know how she did it. I don't know how your mother put up with you.”

The mere mention of my mother causes my heart to jump, but there's an underlying insinuation that
I
was the reason behind her leaving. I can't help gasping and step back at him. “It's you,” I accused him. “It's
your
fault she left. And you know what? I don't blame her. I can't stand you, either!” I grab a glass vase with dusty, fake flowers in it and hurl it at his head.

He just barely ducks out of the way. “What the hell?” He charges toward me, jerking his hand back, but then it suspends in the air as if some invisible force is holding him back from slapping me into the middle of next week.

“What? You want to hit me? Just like you used to hit Mom?”

My words are like a weapon of mass destruction judging by the complete devastation across his face. He lowers his hand and takes another step back away from me.

“I HATE YOU!” I scream and then take off running to my room, sobbing so hard that I can't even see straight. My door slams like a bolt of thunder hitting the small apartment. No doubt everyone in the building heard it, but I don't care. I lock the door and then hurl myself across the bed and cry into my pillow.