Crazy Love (9 page)

Read Crazy Love Online

Authors: Amir Abrams

11
O
hhhkay . . . will someone please explain to me the purpose of homeroom? I mean, really. It's dumb.com for real. The only saving grace is that Mr. Langston—everyone calls him Mister L, though—who is also my advanced calculus teacher, is finger-licking fine and nice to look at. Other than that, homeroom is a waste of time. Well . . . my time, that is. I glance up at the clock as the announcements are being read over the intercom. I yawn.
Whew . . . talking to Sincere last night, then seeing him, really made me feel . . . um, mmmph, good! No, great! No, wait. Better than great! Phenomenal—yeah, that's it. Whew, my man knows he can kiss. His sweet lips and warm, strong hands were all over me last night. And I was all over him. I just hope he doesn't start tripping. Not a good look if he does. No, Sincere definitely better not even think it.
So, anywaaayz . . . guess what? This morning, the Wicked Witch told me that she has to travel for work for the next three days, some kinda conference, and won't be back until late Sunday night. So, guess where I'll be staying? With Daddy! And you know what that means? There is a merciful, Kamiyah-loving God after all! Oh yes . . . this morning I was jumping for joy. Then she said, “I'm taking you off punishment. Not because I think you've earned it. But since I know your father's not going to adhere to it, there's no sense in keeping you on it.”
I ran up and almost knocked her down, giving her a big hug and a kiss. Although it was all phony and whatnot, I was too dang excited to care. I couldn't believe my change of luck!
“So does that mean I can drive my car to school, too?” I asked, holding my breath.
“For now you can. Your father's driving it over here now, then taking my car to drive me to the airport.”
“Yes!” I shouted, pumping my fist in the air.
But, of course—like she always does—she had to toss something real slick in the mix 'cause she's real
special
like that. “Enjoy yourself while you can, because we both know you'll do or say something to get you right back on punishment.”
I kinda gave her a blank stare. But I didn't go in on her. Shoot, I'm not even thinking about her. I finally drove my car to school today. I get to hang out with my girls. And, most importantly, spend time with my man. So all that ying-yang she was popping this morning went over my head.
Anywaaayz, I didn't sneak back into the house until almost one o'clock in the morning. Then I woke up mad late because I didn't hear my alarm. And I didn't have time to charge my phone. So now it's dead! And there's absolutely no way I'm gonna go all day without being able to text my man, or talk to him during lunch. I dig through my bag to make sure I didn't forget to bring my charger with me. I pull out my phone, then quickly drop it back in my bag when Mr. Langston shoots me a look.
“Uh, Miss Nichols, is that a cell phone I see in your hand?”
“Of course not, Mister L,” I tell him, all sweet and whatnot. “You know I wouldn't do you like that.”
He chuckles. “I hope not. I'd hate to be the one to give you detention.”
“It's probably her little rabbit you saw,” a voice in the back of the class says.
“Yeah, you noticed she spends a lot of time in the bathroom,” another voice says.
That gets the goofballs in the back laughing. Without looking, I know it's nobody but Jarrell and his whack sidekick Calvin, popping junk. Jarrell—with his thick waves and sexy dimples—has a thing for me, so he'll do or say almost anything to try to get my attention, since I usually make him invisible. Thing is, I used to really, really, reeeeeally like him in my sophomore year. And I kinda still do, but . . . mmmph. No, thank you! We dated for like three days, then it was lights-out. The show was over. Kissing him made my stomach turn. It was like sticking my lips into a dishwasher with all that spit he had going on. Yuck! Fine or not, if you can't kiss, you get dissed.
Anywaaayz . . . maybe he's stepped up his lip game. After all, that was two years ago. But I won't know. I roll my eyes up in my head, deciding to not even entertain their dumbness.
“All right, Misters Mills and Russell,” Mister L warns, eyeing both of them, “another outburst like that and—”
Fortunately for the two of them, the bell for first period rings, cutting Mister L off. Everyone scatters out of homeroom like a bunch of roaches. Mr. Langston calls me over to his desk as I'm gathering my things, then asks me if I'd be interested in being a math tutor.
I tilt my head. “Mister L, I thought only members of the math club were tutors.”
He smiles. “They are. But being that you're one of my brightest students . . .”
“With one of the highest GPAs in the school, don't forget,” I add, grinning.
“Right, right,” he says, chuckling. “How could I forget?”
I shrug. “I'll forgive you this time since you happen to be one of my favorite teachers.”
And you're so dang fine
, I think, staring into his dark brown eyes. I bet when he was in school he had all the girls.
“So what do you say?”
“Huh? What do I say about what?”
He repeats the question.
“Oh, that. Can I think about it for a few days and get back to you? Between both of my dance classes and keeping up with my studies, my schedule is really hectic.”
He glances at his watch. “Okay. I understand. Well, think about it.”
“I will.” The bell for first period rings as he's pulling out a pad and writing out a pass for me. I take the pass and tell him I'll see him fifth period. I shoulder my bag and head for the door, deciding to cut my first period—something I've never done—to go to the library to charge my phone instead. I'm a senior and this is an emergency, so missing class isn't the end of the world.
 
The rest of the school day flies by. I chill with my girls in fourth period lunch—although I spend most of it texting back and forth with Sincere—and go to classes. But most of the day I keep thinking about Sincere, wondering what he's doing and who he's doing it with. I know he has mad chicks all up in his face over there on that campus. I just hope he's checking them birds, letting them know what's really good. Not being able to see what he's doing is going to drive me crazy. I pull out my phone and send him a text. U THINKIN BOUT ME?
Two minutes later, he texts back. LIKE CRAZY. U ALREADY KNO. CAN'T WAIT TO TTYL
ME 2
I slip my phone back into my bag as I approach my locker. I open it, then glance at myself in the mirror I have attached to the back of the door. I pull out my lip gloss to shine my lips. I'm meeting Ameerah and Zahara so we can watch the boys' gymnastic team practice and pop ish, like we normally do. I pull all of my books out of my book bag and place them in my locker, almost forgetting I have a French test tomorrow. Not that I won't ace it without my book, since I have all of my notes. Still, it's better to be safe than sorry. I kneel down to get the book from the bottom of my locker when I hear, “Aye, yo, why you always playin' me?”
I look up and it's Jarrell staring down at me with his arm propped up on the door of my locker. “Excuse
you
?” I say with 'tude, glancing up at him.
“Yo, you heard me. Why you be playin' me?”
At six feet, he towers over me and I feel like a dwarf, looking up at him. I stand up. At least now I don't feel so short. “Little boy, ain't nobody playing you.”
“Little boy?” he asks, looking around. “Where you see a little boy at?”
I place a hand on my hip. “I'm looking at him.”
He smirks, folding his arms. “Nah, you got the wrong one. I ain't that dude. Ain't
nothing
little about me, ma. Believe that. And if you stopped frontin' you'd already know that.”
“You had your chance, boo. Sophomore year, or did you forget?”
“Yo, that didn't count. Give me another chance. I've grown since then.”
I roll my eyes, sucking my teeth. “Whatever. That's not what I heard. So moving on.”
He laughs. “Oh, you got jokes, right?”
I tilt my head. “Like you did this morning?”
“Nah, you know I was only messin' around.”
“Mmmph . . . too bad I'm not,” I say, slamming my locker shut.
He looks at me all serious and whatnot. “Yo, for real though. What's good wit' you?”
“Nothing. I'm chilling. Why?”
“I'm saying . . . when we gonna kick it? You know, chill.”
I blink. “
We
aren't gonna do anything. But you can go kick rocks if you'd like.”
“Damn, girl. Why you gotta be so hard on a brotha?”
“Because you act real silly and immature. And if you think I'm gonna waste my time with some
little
boy. Not.”
“See. There you go with that little boy talk again.”
I laugh. “Jarrell, boo . . . close ya eyes and picture this . . .”
“Picture what? You and me?”
“Close your eyes and I'll show you.”
“What is it?”
“A surprise.”
He eyes me doubtfully. I keep my gaze locked on his. “A'ight, yo, don't play me, Miyah.”
I step up into his space, lower my voice as I'm looking up at him. I bat my lashes. “I'm not playing, Jarrell. You said you want me to give you another chance, right?”
He rubs the hairs on his chin, grinning. “No doubt.”
“Then close your eyes.”
“A'ight, yo.” He closes them.
I stroke the side of his face, then run my fingertip over his soft lips. “And don't open them until I say so.”
He smiles. “A'ight, yo . . . what you got good for me?”
“This,” I say, stepping off, clicking my heels and popping my hips down the hall.
“Aye, yo,” he yells in back of me. “That's real effed up, yo.”
I laugh, throwing my hand up in the air at him. “Whatever!” I snap, not looking back.
Just as I'm turning the corner to head toward the gym, I see Zahara heading my way. She stops in the middle of the hall, puts a finger up. “Pause, boo!” she yells down to me. I stop. She looks around and I do the same, then we both straighten our backs, throw one hand high up on our hips, then Naomi Campbell–it toward each other. We high-step it, and spin. Catwalk it up, then start cracking up.
“Girl, you stoopid.”
“Whatever,” she says, flicking her hair. “Don't hate 'cause my runway strut was fiyah. And yours was . . .
boop-boop
. . . tired.”
“Oh, puhleeeze. You saw how I was bringin' it.” I snap my fingers and dip to the side. “
Bam!
You couldn't stand the heat.”
We laugh, locking arms and walking down the hall.
Zahara says, “I'm surprised your mom is letting you hang out.”
“Oh, the warden has temporarily set me free. She's out of town for the rest of the week. So I'm free, Miss Sophie.”
She shakes her head. “And you suuuuuure is ugly,” she says, cracking up with that line from
The Color Purple
.
“Whatever,” I say, laughing with her.
“Annnywaaaay . . . girl, where the heck you been? Ameerah sent you a text. You were supposed to meet us ten minutes ago.”
I tell her I didn't get it. That it must have come through while I was at my locker messing with Jarrell.
She stops. “Jarrell? Ohmygod, what he want now?”
We start walking again.
“What else. He came over to my locker asking me why I keep playing him. I'm like, little boy . . .
boom
! Ain't nobody playing your dusty butt.”

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