Second Chance (14 page)
Authors: L. Divine
“I know you'll, again, make the right decision, Jayd,” Ms. Toni says from her desk without looking up at me. I think she's way off base here. I also think she has a little bias when it comes to the Weiner brothers. Apparently there's more to their story than I know. I'll have to get Jeremy to tell me more about his brothers over lunch.
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Before Jeremy and I have a chance to leave, KJ, Misty, and crew catch a glimpse of us heading off campus. I see them too, so I know Jeremy must see them as well, but he doesn't say anything. It never seems to faze Jeremy that people are watching him. I'm just glad to get off campus and talk to him. I don't need an audience when I tell him about tomorrow's conference with Mrs. Bennett.
“So, what do you feel like eating? Campos Burritos, Taco Bell, McDonald's,” he says, reading off the names of several fast food joints in the area.
“McDonald's sounds good,” I say, noticing the restaurant on the left. He pulls into the drive-through and orders. We pull up to the payment window and wait for our food.
“So, how was your talk with Ms. Toni?” he asks.
“It was cool. She convinced me to file a formal complaint against Mrs. Bennett,” I say, and wait for his reply. After our talk Saturday, I'm sure he thought I'd forgotten about it by now.
“I figured as much,” he says. “You don't seem like the lie down-and-take-it type. Just be prepared for the backlash,” he says, taking our bags from the cashier and handing them to me before getting our drinks.
“It won't be as bad as you think. Ms. Toni will be there to act as my ombudsman. So, it won't be me against her.”
“That's what you think. You have to remember, Jayd, Mrs. Bennett's going to not only be your teacher next year, but she's also the A.P. sponsor, which means you'll have to see her at every study session before the A.P. exam. She's never going to forget this and will use every chance she gets to make your life a living hell.”
“Damn, you're really afraid of her, aren't you?” I ask as we head back to campus.
“Not at all. I just know how she gets down. And, I know saying something won't do any good because I've already tried. Chance was in my English class the last semester of our sophomore year. She kicked him out for making a joke about her glasses. I said something to her then, and she called my mom and told her I was being disobedient and probably needed more sleep. So, as a result, my mom didn't let me surf in the morning or hang out late on school nights for the rest of the semester. Now that I know how Mrs. Bennett is, I just don't mess with her anymore. My freedom's too precious to me.”
When we get back to campus with our food, we decide to park in the back parking lot and eat our lunch in peace.
“Jeremy, what else did you and your brothers get into that I don't know about?” I say, not wanting to be too nosy, but I have to know the truth.
“Oh, not too much,” he says in between bites of his Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese. “It's just we always got caught at some point, you know,” he mutters, covering his mouth with his hands, trying to be polite. As I snack on my large fries and chicken nuggets, I think of the best way to ask my next question.
“Be honest. Are you and your brothers some typical rich, spoiled P.V. brats? Or do you guys actually have a purpose in life?” I ask, trying to be both funny and serious at the same time. “Inquiring minds want to know.”
“I can't speak for my brothers, but I can say I do have a purpose in life, even though we are P.V. brats.” He smiles. “A lot of people have always tried to judge me according to what my brothers have done, like the time Michael stole a car or when Justin got caught having sex in the teacher's lounge,” he says, taking another bite of his food and looking me straight in the eye. “I try and surf to my own wave, you know what I'm saying?”
“Yeah, I do know what you mean.” Now I have a big lump in my throat from feeling guilty. How could I judge him? I knew who this boy was the first time I laid eyes on him: a rebel with a soul. And, like rebels before him, he's loved when he's popular and hated when the ride's over. “So, what's your purpose in life?”
“Oh, right now my purpose is to get to know you better, Miss Jayd Jackson,” Jeremy says, leaning in to give me a kiss. “Why so many questions?” he asks.
“Well, ever since your hearing, a lot of people have been questioning your character,” I begin. “Not that I care what people say, but it does make it easier when the people I love, love each other back,” I say, realizing I just said I love him. How do I take that one back? And, do I really want to?
“So, you love me?” Jeremy asks with the biggest smile on his face I've ever seen. Oh, shit. How do I explain this one without seeming crazy? I mean, I could fall in love with him very easily. But, to say I love him right now is a bit premature, and I don't want him to think I'm moving too fast or in the wrong direction.
“You know what I mean,” I respond, trying to make it seem insignificant, like a slip of the tongue.
“No, Jayd, I don't know what you mean. We haven't discussed it, but I'm getting impatient. Will you or won't you be my girl?”
“Jeremy, you've already got me,” I say, initiating a kiss for the first time. In my heart, I really feel for Jeremy. So why not make it official? As I pull away, not wanting to let go of his lips, I look at Jeremy and I look at the school. What's the worst that can happen if I do become his girlfriend?
“So, does that mean I can start calling you my girlfriend?” he asks as he kisses my nose and then my forehead. “Inquiring minds want to know,” he says, mocking me.
“I just think it's a little soon after my last relationship to commit right now.” I hope he understands it's not that I don't want to be his woman, because God knows I do. It's just I'm not ready to be on lockdown again.
“I understand, baby. And like I said before, there's no pressure. It's just I want to make sure we're on the same page.”
“And what page is that, Jeremy?” I ask. I love teasing him. I get such a kick out of it.
“On whatever page it is that says we're more than just friends, more than just kickin' it. I want to get to know you for a long, long, long time to come.”
There's the bell, damn it. Just when things are getting good, we have to return to reality.
“There'll be plenty of time to get to know each other and to be boyfriend and girlfriend,” I say, kissing him on the lips as we both reach for our door handles to get out of the car. It's quite a hike from this parking lot to the main campus, but it's worth it for a little peace and quiet. “See you after school?” I ask, hoping he's still willing to take me home, even though he has no claim to the cookies quite yet.
“Of course. I look forward to our daily ride to Compton,” he says, taking the lunch trash out of the car and throwing it in the bin on our way to class. I hope I don't miss the opportunity to be with Jeremy. It's a dream come true; it really is. I still have my reservations and not so much because I miss KJ or anything like that. His aloof attitude and my wanting him to be a little more like KJ in some ways is keeping me from being my full self around him. And, until these issues are resolved, I can't fully say I'm his woman yet. But damn, I want to be.
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After Jeremy drops me off after school, I realize I didn't kiss him goodbye. He still makes me so nervous. I get all unsettled inside when he's around. KJ never made me feel like thisâever. I enjoy my afternoon walks home from the bus stop. It gives me a chance to clear my head of all the day's drama at school. At least Jeremy and I are finally on the same page. It's just so lovely, the way he makes me a priority in his life. We spend our time talking and just overall chilling and getting to know each other; it isn't always about making out.
Even though it's chill between me and Jeremy, I miss the passion KJ and I shared. He gets me all hot and bothered just by the way he looks at me or when I catch a whiff of his cologne as he passes by me in the hall. It's just something about a good-smelling brotha that makes me weak in the knees.
As I walk up Alondra toward Wilmington to Netta's beauty shop, I see my neighborhood haters and crew. Damn, I don't feel like dealing with Monica and them today. It's already bad enough having a quiz I'm not prepared for.
Instead of going straight, I make a right by the Miracle Market and cut through the back way up Kemp, just to avoid confrontation.
“That's just like a sell-out, running from Black folks,” Felicia yells, loud enough so the whole block can hear. She's such a broad. And, did she just call me a sell-out? What the hell? I'm sure Misty had something to do with that coined phrase. Otherwise, how would they know I was dating a White dude, because that's exactly what that comment means. She's the only other link between the haters at South Bay High and the haters around the way.
Ignoring Felicia's comment, I make a left on Greenleaf, crossing over Wilmington to where Netta's shop is located. Her sign's so bright I'm sure astronauts in space can see it. As I approach Netta's Never Nappy Beauty Shop, I see Mama and Netta through the front window chatting up a storm. I hope they're not talking about my quiz.
I reach into my little wannabe Coach purse and pull out the charm bag I made this morning. Usually Mama has me write something on the bag in a particular color. But this morning when I made the bag, she just listed the ingredients and measurements on her note. Nothing more.
“Princess Jayd, why you standing outside? Are you waiting on a handout, like Pam?” Netta says through the intercom as she stops scratching Mama's scalp to buzz me through the door.
“God don't like ugly, Netta,” Mama says, defending Pam. She's got a real soft spot for the needy, especially crack heads.
“Oh, Lynn Mae. I was just teasing. Come on in here, girl,” Netta says.
“Hi, Ms. Netta. Hi, Mama,” I say, walking over to give them each a hug and kiss on the cheek.
“How was your day at school, baby?” Mama asks.
“It was all right,” I say, trying to avoid the impending inquisition.
“All right? Sounds like diversion to me,” Netta says, applying a hot oil treatment to Mama's scalp. It helps control the dandruff while Mama's hair is locked in her twist all week.
“That's all right, Netta. We'll get to that in a minute. Right now we've got other business to handle.”
“Oh, that's right, Lynn Mae. We have a quiz to give,” Netta says, smiling at me. Netta has the most intense brown eyes I've ever seen. They're so dark they almost look black, especially up against her light skin. Netta's high-yellow, like my daddy's folk.
“Jayd, hand me my purse, please,” Mama says, pointing to the sofa in the lounge area. I love coming to Netta's shop. It's so inviting, bright, and tranquil, even amid the sounds of running water, blow-dryers, and sizzling hot combs.
The comfort Netta's shop brings me is odd because ever since I was a little girl, I've hated getting my hair done. I can remember when I was about five years old, my mom came to pick me up from my old elementary school, Caldwell, and told me I was going to Netta's to get my hair done, which I thought would be like getting strapped down to a table and having someone saw my head open. I screamed bloody murder. I don't know what I was afraid of, but I've always been a little on the dramatic side. All the same, I don't let anyone touch my head, except Mama.
“Here you go, Mama,” I say, handing Mama her oversized Liz Claiborne bag and sitting down in an empty salon chair, opposite Netta's station. She reaches in and grabs her notebook and reading glasses.
“Stop moving your head, Lynn Mae, or this oil won't settle into your scalp,” Netta says, cocking Mama's head to her right.
“I need to put on my glasses so I can see, Netta. Damn, you're so bossy.”
“You know, we can do this another time, y'all,” I say, trying to get out of this pop quiz any way I can. I could be on the phone with Jeremy or Nellie or studying for my English test.
“Here, Jayd. This is a list of the ingredients in your charm bag from this morning. You need to write next to each one what they're used for. Then, you need to write the word for their combined purpose on the other side of your bag, in the proper color, of course.”
She digs through all the junk in her purse: Doublemint gum packs and wrappers, a sunglass case, a huge billfold wallet, tiny bags of herbs, extra earrings, rings and other jewelry, pictures of everybody's kids but her own, and finally, her personal pouch. Inside Mama's pouch are all the important things: ID and credit cards, an extra bottle of Paris perfume, her portable prayer book, a Rosary, and her pens. Mama hands me seven multicolored pens and shoos me away with her right hand as Netta talks about her purse.
“Lynn Mae, I don't know why there's always so much crap in your bag. Now, you know what they say: You can tell how much junk a person's got in their life by how much junk they got in their trunk, or in your case, purse,” Netta says.
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