Hustlin, p.8
Hustlin', page 8
Creeping up to the bus stop across from where I’m standing, he rolls down his window. He and Tre are in the car, just like they were yesterday when he harassed me. But this time I don’t think he’s looking for me. Feeling the vibe, I forget about my disappointment and pull my cell out of the robe pocket to call Mickey. Before I can dial her number to warn her and Nigel about the impending confrontation, Nigel’s green Impala bumps loudly down PCH, turning in front of the same bus stop.
“That’s that nigga fool,” Tre says.
Mickey’s man pulls his piece and fires three shots into Nigel’s car.
I duck for cover and Nigel speeds off.
“Jayd, I thought you was trying to get up early so you can catch Mickey before school,” Bryan says, interrupting my dream. Is it morning already? “And I need you to look at these bumps on my forehead. I think you pulled my braids a little too tight when you touched them up last night.”
I was tense after my run-in with Mickey’s man yesterday, but not as tense as Mickey’s going to be when I confront her about it. No one makes me feel stripped like that, especially not so close to home.
“I’m up,” I say, throwing the covers back and allowing the morning chill to wake me up. “And I’ll get some of Mama’s braid balm for your head.” That’s another lesson I learned from Netta’s spirit book: never take your frustrations out on a client’s head.
“Bet, little Jayd. The bathroom’s all yours. You know where I’ll be.” Bryan leaves the door open and heads toward his broke-down van, parked near the side of the house, for his morning meditation. There are only a few steps between me and the back of the door where my clothes for the day are hanging, but from my comfortable spot in my tiny bed, it seems like a mile away.
My dream about Nigel and Mickey getting shot up by her man still has me rocked. I haven’t had such a violent dream in a minute. I’ve definitely got to bring that one up with Netta this afternoon. And I hope the part about Laura taking my place as Lady Macbeth doesn’t come true either. The whole dream was a mess and I’m not in a rush to retell it just yet.
Before I can make it out of my bed my cousin, Jay comes out of his room and rushes into the bathroom. Damn it, now I know this is going to be a rough day. Anytime I don’t get in there before him it’s a bad start.
“Jay, hurry up. I’ve got a bus to catch, unlike you,” I say, making my way quietly into his room to retrieve my toiletries. Daddy turns in his sleep at the sound of Jay’s loud peeing and my creeping. This house is way too small for comfort, if you ask me. But we’re family, and that’s just how it is sometimes.
“You can’t rush nature, Jayd. Haven’t you learned that in all of your studying with Mama?” he says, making light of what me and Mama do. As if she heard my thoughts, Mama clears her throat and shifts in bed, letting me know it’s time for me to get moving.
“Don’t worry about what I learn. You just worry about getting out of my way. Come on, move it,” I retort, opening the bathroom door while he washes his hands. At least he’s a clean dude, unlike our uncles. Even Bryan makes a slight mess from time to time. But since our schedules coincide I’ve been training Bryan and he’s getting better at cleaning up behind himself.
“So impatient,” Jay says, pushing past me and shutting the door behind him. He can be more of a drama queen than I can sometimes. Speaking of which, I better get into character if I’m going to deal with Mickey’s ass today. I want to catch her first thing this morning and squash this madness. Her man is too unpredictable for me to let another minute go by without talking to her. I tried calling Mickey several times last night, but her phone was off, just as I predicted. No matter how big South Bay’s campus is, Mickey can’t run away from me at school.
My morning has been uneventful so far. My first two classes were a breeze—Spanish always is, and English is my favorite class. But if I don’t get more work done on my paper, government class is going to be most uncomfortable. Our rough drafts are due today and I’m ready, but it’s not my best work. I’ve been so distracted by my friends and their issues that I haven’t focused on my own. Speak of the devil, here Rah goes texting me now.
Peace queen. I’m going to have my baby girl this weekend. I want you to meet her. See you after school. Holla.
Rah finally wants me to meet his daughter. Wow, now I know he’s maturing. If I could only get Mickey to grow up and take responsibility for her failed hustlin’, then we might be able to save ourselves from her man’s insanity before it goes any further.
I’ve been looking for Mickey and Nigel all morning, but they don’t seem to be anywhere. I hope they didn’t ditch again. It’s too close to the holidays to get caught for something that stupid. Break is almost over and I should take the remaining time to get some work done in the library. I want to clean my locker out at lunch. It’s gotten too overstuffed for me to handle.
When I get inside of the library, Mrs. Bennett’s standing there talking to the librarian. I should’ve known her evil influence extends even this far. They both look at me crazy, and that’s just fine with me. All I want to do is get work done before third period and get out of here. To hell with what they think or say about me. I’ve got bigger fish to fry today.
“Good morning, Jayd,” Mrs. Bennett says, forcing me to speak. I’m not going to give her another opportunity to call me rude. “It was nice to see you at Jeremy’s on Thanksgiving, even though you two aren’t an item anymore.”
Why is she so into my business? Doesn’t she have anything better to do?
After taking my government notebook out, I slide my backpack across the counter to the librarian, who promptly puts it in the cubby and hands me a number.
“You left this last time you were in here,” the librarian says, passing me the piece of paper. If I hadn’t paid for it already, it would probably be in the trash, judging from her obvious disdain of the subject matter. It’s the bibliography from Mr. Adewale’s paper on voodoo queens. No wonder I didn’t miss it. I’m more interested in the content than the references, but it’s still good to have it all.
Mrs. Bennett can’t help herself, glancing at the paper as I claim it. “Oh, researching more fiction, I see.”
Mrs. Bennett is the snidest broad I’ve ever met. It should be illegal for teachers to be haters. But, like shoes, haters come in all colors and sizes.
“There’s nothing fictitious about voodoo,” I say, putting the fear of God in the librarian, but not in Mrs. Bennett. Her eyes glow as she smiles at me. Just like Esmeralda’s eyes, Mrs. Bennett’s give me the creeps.
Before she can get another remark in, I walk away from the counter, claiming my backpack number and heading out.
“See you in rehearsal,” Mrs. Bennett says to my back.
I can’t wait until this festival is over. I’ve always wanted a lead role, but not at this price. But, like Mama says, there’s always a sacrifice when we’re at the crossroads and dealing with Mrs. Bennett is mine.
Today is the first time in weeks I don’t have rehearsal at lunch—well, at least not for the first half of it. The stage crew is performing a sound and lighting check for our first dress rehearsal. And Mrs. Sinclair won’t be back until lunch is almost over, so I’ll take this time to clean out my locker. Nigel and Mickey obviously don’t want to be found and Jeremy and Chance have a Hacky Sack tournament in the parking lot, so I have no excuse for not cleaning out this hot mess. No wonder my life is so hectic; I’m anything but organized these days.
It’s tough keeping it all together when I have to move around so much. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have a house with my own room. I could keep my letters and private notes in a box under my bed or in my closet, like normal teenage girls. My locker’s packed with all kinds of paper: half pieces with notes scribbled on them, fliers from ASB and other school organizations advertising various events, loose papers from teachers. Luckily we have a recycling program on campus. Otherwise all of the paper use would be a real disgrace.
“What’s up, Jayd? Spending lunch alone?” Misty says, walking out of the girls’ bathroom with Shae behind her. I guess now that Misty’s not a virgin she’s cooler in Shae’s eyes, even if her first sexual experience was a public nightmare.
“I thought you were afraid to look at me or something. Doesn’t that include speaking to me?” I ask, looking at her briefly before rolling my eyes and giving my attention back to my locker. I glance briefly at the trash can next to the bathroom door and walk over to retrieve it. Having the trash can next to me will make the process fly by. Just then, Laura walks out of the ASB room, crossing my path on my way back to my open locker.
“You know what, Jayd? You’re going to end up with no friends and everyone’s going to know just how strange you and your grandmother really are. Watch and see,” Misty says, sashaying her wide ass out of the main hall. Shae’s probably too high to make any smart-ass comments of her own right now, and that’s just fine with me. The less friction I have from them, the better. But Laura’s not leaving without a few words of her own, I’m sure.
“You know, Jayd, I must admit, you are a very talented actress,” Laura says, approaching my locker.
Ms. Toni and Reid are in the drama room serving as witnesses to the sound check. I wonder what Laura’s doing up here all alone? That’s very unlike her. And, her giving me a genuine compliment is even more suspicious.
“No wonder you were able to jostle your way into Lady Macbeth’s crown.”
“I didn’t jostle my way into anything, Laura.” I toss the trash into the bin, trying to ignore her energy. I have to deal with this broad enough as it is. I can’t wait until next week when this festival is over. Sharing a class with Laura and the rest of ASB has proven to be more than a sistah can handle.
“Oh, yes you did,” Laura says. “And the worst part about it is that you did it with tricks up your sleeve. But believe me, little girl, you’re not the only one who can work magic around here.”
Again, Misty pops up her curly head out of nowhere, this time without Shae. Maybe she left something behind. Whatever the case, both of them and me in the main hall is still too close for comfort in my world.
“Damn, Jayd, how much shit you got in your locker? It’s going to take you all day to clean that up.”
Misty’s got her nerve talking. The only reason her locker isn’t as bad as mine is because she rarely takes notes or has extra paperwork to bring home. No one would ever accuse Misty of being a diligent student.
“What’s in my locker is none of your business,” I say, tossing the last of the miscellaneous papers into the can before slamming the locker door shut and returning it to its post by the bathroom door. I’ve got about five minutes before the bell rings and want to get to Mrs. Sinclair as soon as she lets us in. I’m too anxious to try on my costume to give these broads any more of my time.
“No, but once it’s out and in the trash, it’s public property. Remember that,” Laura says, walking out of the nearly empty hall before I can make my exit.
What the hell was that all about? Misty, looking momentarily victorious for some reason, heads toward the main office, leaving me completely alone in the vast building. What the hell just happened here? Before I can figure it out, Chance texts me, telling me to get down to the drama room for my fitting. It’s about time.
When I get to the dress rehearsal, everyone’s already buzzing with excitement over his or her costume. The drama room is packed and there’s more plastic garment covers on the floor than at a cleaner’s as cast members and groupies alike uncover the precious wardrobe. I have to admit, anytime we perform a Shakespearean play, the costumes are amazing. I spot Chance, Matt, and Seth in a corner making fun of Chance’s costume. He does kind of remind me of a character in Men in Tights.
“So, how’s your injury, Banquo?” I ask, gently pushing Chance in the arm.
Alia’s eyeing her witch costume in awe: it is pretty amazing, including a hump for her back, long, gray hair, warts and all.
“It’s all good. Hey, have you seen Nigel today? I’ve been looking for him and texting him all day with no response.”
Now I’m positive he and Mickey ditched. One day they’re going to get busted for that shit.
“No, I’ve been looking for Mickey myself.” I glance toward the door leading to the hallway where the dressing room, bathrooms, Mrs. Sinclair’s office, and the entrance to the theater are. I want to go pee, but I notice Laura heading back that way and I’ve had enough of her for one day.
“Jayd, your dress is in the dressing room. The gown for the sleepwalking scene isn’t ready yet, but will be by opening night,” Mrs. Sinclair says, entering the classroom and buzzing through the packed room to check on all of the outfits. Her bushy, red head can be seen among all of the students with her checklist in hand. “I need everyone to come and sit down with their costumes in hand, please. Hurry so we can get class started and rehearse, please,” Mrs. Sinclair shouts through the crowded room. As if she’s said nothing, no one moves.
“Hey, get your clothes, sit down and shut up,” Chance yells, making Mrs. Sinclair smile. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he has a crush on our little teacher. I guess I’d better be obedient like everyone else.
When I get to the dressing room, Laura’s eyeing her costume but touching mine.
“So, how long have you been a fan of Shakespeare?” Laura asks, delicately placing my dress across the dressing room chair.
“I’m not really,” I say, watching her every move in the mirror reflection. What’s she really up to? “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I was just wondering how a little ghetto girl like you would know how to perform a part from one of his plays. I figured you must’ve gone to camp like the majority of the drama students.”
“No, I don’t know of many Shakespearean theater camps that come through Compton. But I did see a crackhead throw her own baby in the Dumpster once. That provided, I think I’ve trained well for this part, don’t you?” I actually heard about that happening, but Laura doesn’t need to know all of that. The look on her face tells me my goal of shutting her up has been accomplished, at least for the time being.
I take my dress off of the chair, ready to take off the plastic, revealing Lady Macbeth’s main attire. But before I can even get my backpack off, Mrs. Bennett enters the dressing room followed by Mrs. Sinclair, who’s running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Laura gives me an evil eye and walks over to Mrs. Bennett, giving her a hug. Where is Ms. Toni when I need her?
“Mrs. Bennett, I don’t know how this got into my purse, but it did and I wouldn’t be doing my duty as a student-body officer and Homecoming court member if I didn’t report it.” Laura reaches in her Prada bag and slips out a small piece of notebook paper.
“How does being the ASB president’s girlfriend make you an officer?” I ask. She takes herself way too seriously. No wonder she and Nellie get along so well.
“Whatever,” Laura says, flipping her heavy, straight brown hair over her shoulder. “The letter’s from Mickey to Jayd,” Laura says, waving the torn paper in front of Mrs. Bennett and me. I see I’m not the only one who can hustle.
“How much of a coincidence is it that I just cleaned out my locker a few moments ago and now you’ve mysteriously popped up with a letter that was in my locker.” I reach for the letter but Laura—being the Amazon girl that she is—does a good job of keeping it out of my reach before handing it to a curious Mrs. Bennett, who looks up from her reading long enough to give me a sinister smile. What else has she got up her sleeve?
“What’s so serious about the letter that it needs my immediate attention?” Mrs. Bennett asks, opening the dilapidated note. Her thin, blonde eyebrows arch high, like she’s just had a facelift.
I know I didn’t have a letter from Mickey in my locker that would have any pertinent information in it, so I’m really not too worried. But who knows what evil has up its sleeve at any given moment?
“It’s proof that birds of a feather flock together.”
I look from Laura to Mrs. Bennett and realize I’m missing something. What the hell is Laura talking about? Mr. A and I already established that I’m a different bird, so I don’t know what species she’s referring to.
“Well I guess you fly with crows, you trashdigger.”
Laura walks up to me, bends down and whispers in my ear. “I don’t have to do my dirty work. I have others to do that for me.”
What did that mean? And if she didn’t have her backup, she’d already be picking her teeth up from the ground.
“Your friends Mickey and Nigel are under investigation for skipping class, and we think they had help in forging her mother’s signature. We are taking the matter very seriously. And if your handwriting matches the signature on the letter, we will have to punish you as well.” Mrs. Bennett looks elated at the content of the letter.
Goddammit, if Mickey ain’t always getting me in some shit. What the hell?
“I don’t care about all that. What I care about is you stealing my stuff. There are ways of going about getting what you want without jacking me,” I say to Laura, who’s looking down at me like she wants to slap me and I wish the bitch would. I’d give her ass a run for her money, even if she does stand a good eight inches taller than me and is built like a thin dude.
“Well technically, Jayd, trash is public property. And as you said, you threw this out.” Mrs. Bennett’s too much for me right now. “Is this your letter?”
“I don’t know; let me see it.” I put my hand out for her to give it to me.
But Mrs. Bennett folds her arms across her flat chest with the note in question clutched firmly in her hand. “We don’t even have to go through all of this. If you simply admit to your role, we can avoid the embarrassment of taking it to the administrative level. Did you help Mickey forge her mother’s signature and ditch, or not?” she demands. Mrs. Sinclair looks like she wants to help, but I know there’s nothing she can do. Mrs. Bennett’s way over her head both in terms of seniority and bitchiness.
