Read Fast Forward Online

Authors: Celeste O. Norfleet

Fast Forward (10 page)

I was so embarrassed. “Grandmom, she means…”

“There’s nothing wrong with her mouth, Kenisha. I’m sure Ursula can speak for herself. Ursula, in this house we speak properly. Yeah, uh-uh, dis, dat and de odder won’t work.”

“Yes, Mrs. King,” Ursula said smiling, immediately changing her tone and straightening up.

“You girls come on in, wash your hands and set the table.”

We followed my grandmother back into the house. “How did you know my grandmother’s name was King?” I whispered.

“Girl, everybody knows your grandmother. She’s been living around here since the dawn of time.” We started laughing.

After we set the table, we sat down, said grace and ate. Breakfast was good, as usual. Ursula ate like she’d never had food before. It was a good thing my grandmother cooks like crazy ’cause she had like three servings. Ursula and I cleaned up the kitchen then sat around talking. We
talked about school and our classes and the teachers. We talked about the different places we hang out including the pizza place around the corner from Freeman.

“So how long you been dancing?” she asked.

“Since I was four years old.”

We talked about my sister and Ty, then after a while she told me about her family. Her mother worked two jobs and was never home, and her father was in prison. She usually cooked, cleaned and took care of herself and the house. She mentioned her brother and how his being at the house was hell for her.

“Where does he go when he’s not at your house?” I asked.

“He stays with his dad most of the time.

“How old is he?”

“He’s seventeen. We were born fifteen months apart.”

“I’ll be seventeen the beginning of summer.”

“Does he go to Penn Hall, too?”

“Nah. He dropped out of school a year ago. He’s supposed to go back to get his GED like he promised my mom, but he’s not doing anything about it. Typical.”

“Where’s his dad?”

“He lives in Maryland. His dad used to be a Redskins football player. That’s how my mom met him. She was hanging out, and they had a thing for a while. But it didn’t last. She said he was nothing but trouble. But if you ask me, that’s all Darien is—trouble. He just got his ankle bracelet off.”

“He had an ankle bracelet, like for house arrest?” I asked. She nodded. I shook my head. I never actually heard of anybody having house arrest before. As tough
as LaVon pretended to be, he was nowhere near getting in that much trouble.

We talked about families some more, but I wasn’t in the mood to share so she did most of the talking. It was like she was waiting for someone to come along to hear her drama. I felt like I should have a bust of Freud sitting over my shoulder like Tubbs.

When it was almost lunch, we went outside and sat on the front porch. We were talking about music we liked when Darien drove by in his car. “That’s a nice car,” I said.

“His dad gave it to him for getting off house arrest.”

“What?”

“Girl, please, you don’t know the half of it. He gets everything he wants. All he has to do is ask his bank. I’m not jealous or anything, but I’m just saying that’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, it is kind of wrong,” I said. “So why was he on house arrest?”

“Who knows? Whatever, I know that he went to youth detention a few years back for stabbing somebody,” she said. I immediately thought about Terrence. He was in youth detention, too. “He got out and went back in almost immediately. After that he just kept getting in trouble.”

“Typical bad boy.”

“Drama is more like it. But I’m just warning you up front. I did the same thing for the others, but don’t nobody be listening to me.” Her cell phone rang just as she was about to say something more. She answered.

She talked a few minutes then agreed to something. As soon as she closed her cell, her brother drove up. “You gotta go?”

“Yeah, he’s picking my mom up from work, but he doesn’t know how to get there. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, see ya,” I said. When she left I started thinking about her brother. He was cute and all, but he was too far out of my league. I never met anyone who got into so much trouble.

I spent the rest of the day chillin’ not feeling like doing any homework. I hung out in the garden with my grandmother until late then stayed in my room installing the new software in the computer. Sometime after dinner my cell rang, it was that number again. I answered. “Hello.”

“Yeah, you know me now, right?”

“Hi,” I said, not particularly impressed that he called me again, although he did have a nice voice. To hear him talk, you wouldn’t think he was all drama, but apparently he was.

I asked him about his bracelet, and he told me that he got it by getting into a fight. I told him that that’s what got me kicked out of private school.

“I didn’t think you were from around here,” he said.

“Virginia isn’t on the other side of the universe.” He laughed. I smiled. It was a nice laugh. I wondered if everything Ursula told me about him was true. She did sound kind of jealous. I mean his dad had all this money and he was living large and all, kinda like I was before.

“So what about your dad?” he asked.

“He played professional football then retired and opened a computer company. He’s all right.”

“For real, my dad played football, too. They probably played against each other. That’s tight.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said cautiously.

“That’s tight. I never met anyone who was kinda like me. I mean our dads and all. It’s kinda nice,” he said. “What do you think?”

“About what, knowing somebody whose dad played football?”

“Yeah,” he said.

I knew what he wanted to hear, but I wasn’t ready to reach that conclusion. Yeah, we had a lot in common on the surface, but he was still too far over the top for me. “It’s a’ight, I guess.”

“You playing now,” he joked, “so why don’t we hang out?”

“Probably not a good idea,” I said, knowing for damn sure that it was a really, really bad idea. But I was still tempted. He really seemed nice, and we did have that thing with our dads in common.

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you seeing somebody, like Sierra?”

“Nah, she still all up in my face though, but she over. She just won’t let go. For real, she’s too erratic for me. I’m tired of her drama. I’m looking for somebody sweet. You know anybody like that?”

“Not really,” I said, trying not to giggle, but it slipped out anyway. He laughed, too.

“A’ight, a’ight, so think about it,” he said.

“Yeah, okay, I gotta go.”

As soon as I hung up, I took a deep breath. I had no idea what I was doing. But talking with Darien was fun. He kinda understood me, and he listened. Maybe talking to him was okay. Maybe he wasn’t all that much trouble.

eleven

Holdin’ On

“An open scab takes forever to heal, especially when you pick at it. The more you pick the uglier it gets. I thought it would be cathartic to believe that all good things come to those who wait. Naive much? My bad.”

—MySpace.com

Another
day behind me, I marked it off on my computer calendar. I checked everything I needed to get done this week. I messed up by not doing a reading assignment and trig worksheet over the weekend. But I figured I could catch up quickly enough. The thing was not to fall too far behind.

All in all the weekend was good. After hanging out with Ursula then talking with Darien on Saturday, and then going to church on Sunday, I finished uploading my conference call software to my laptop. It was working perfectly. The first thing I did was call my girls to make sure that they were on board. They were. So using the laptop,
I talked face-to-face with Jalisa and Diamond. We had a great time. With the split screen, it was like they were right there in my room with me.

I tried to get in touch with Jade, but she wasn’t around all weekend, so I left her a message with my code so that she could give me a call. I also text-messaged Terrence. I knew he was busy with his classes, plus being online was probably really tough, so I figured I’d hear from him in a few days. My grandmother was right. There was no need worrying about what he was doing or with whom. There wasn’t anything I could really do about it anyway. Besides, I trusted him.

So now I’m sitting in class pretending to pay attention. The class had just finished the
Crucible
and they were discussing current ramifications of a totalitarian society. I was busy doing my trig worksheet.

“Ms. Lewis, do you want to weigh in on this discussion, or is this class boring you today?”

Hearing my name called, I looked up.
Merde, I got caught.
Again. “Huh, what was the comment?” I asked, as a couple of students in the class turned around to look at me as others laughed.

The teacher, at the front of the classroom, was looking directly at me. He crossed his arms over his chest then leaned back against his desk. “Would you please pass that paper up front to me now?”

I sighed and rolled my eyes.
Merde.
It wasn’t that I couldn’t get another worksheet. I could. And it wasn’t that I couldn’t duplicate my answers. That wasn’t a problem. It’s that this wasn’t the first, second, third or fourth time I’d
gotten caught doing Hazelhurst work in this class. Reluctantly, I passed my trig assignment to the front of the class. The teacher took it, read a few of the calculations then frowned at me. “Trigonometry. Do you have this class?”

“No, it’s just something I do,” I said coolly.

“You systematically work college-level complex calculations for fun? Just something you do?” he asked. Now all the students were looking at me like I had three heads. There was no real answer to the question, so I decided to let him have this round. I shrugged.

“Trigonometry is a very difficult subject, and you find it fun? What is it, like Sudoku for you?” he asked, then glanced down at the worksheet again.

I could tell he was trying to figure out something, maybe one of the problems. I smirked. I could also see he was stumped. “Yeah, sometimes,” I said. Some of the students snickered and laughed. He looked around then back at me. “Since this class is obviously boring and you find trig a more stimulating distraction, why don’t you spend the rest of the class time in ISD.”

Finally, a break. In-school-detention was exactly what I needed to catch up on my Hazelhurst reading assignment. I got my note and went to the ISD room. As soon as I walked in, I smiled. Ursula was sitting in the back of the room.

I gave the teacher assigned to the room the note and then took a seat next to Ursula. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Me? You’re the Goody Two-shoes. What are you doing here?”

“I got caught doing some other assignment in class.”

“What? You got sent here for that? What kind of class work was it?” she whispered.

I smiled and chuckled. “Trigonometry in English lit class.”

“Trigonometry? Who’s class is that?” she asked.

“It’s from my old school. I like to keep up with them.”

“Girl, you know you are getting weird, right?” she said, laughing. I laughed too then we both straightened our faces when the teacher looked back in our direction and cleared her throat.

“So what exactly are we supposed to be doing in here?” I asked.

“Contemplating our behavior and doing class work, I guess.”

“So what are you doing in here?”

“My stupid brother called me and my cell rang. He’s such an asshole. I told my teacher that it was my watch, but she didn’t believe me. So since she couldn’t find a phone on me, she sent me here.”

“That’s so dumb. They sent you out of class because a cell phone rang.”

“My idiot brother called like he had nothing better to do. He knows I’m in school.”

“Maybe he forgot,” I said, finding myself defending him.

“Oh, please,” she whispered. “Don’t even try it.”

“All right, ladies, this isn’t a social gathering. You have work to do. Let’s get started,” the room monitor said.

Ursula and I pulled out our class assignments and actually began doing our work. I had no idea what kind of student she was. I guess I presumed she was like her brother, but when I glanced over at her desk, her class
book and notebook were open and she was working on chemistry equations. She was knocking them out like they were simple elementary school additions. Maybe she wasn’t like her brother.

I began reading a Hazelhurst assignment, figuring the room monitor wouldn’t have any idea what I was doing anyway. As long as I was quiet I’d be fine. I was wrong. When the bell rang, she asked to see my English work. I didn’t have anything for her. I told her I was reading, but she didn’t buy it. She gave me a slip for afterschool detention.

So the rest of the day wasn’t too bad. I actually paid attention and did the work I was supposed to do. Then, after school I went back to detention. My English teacher was talking to the monitor. I went and sat down. He walked over and placed an assignment on my desk. It was for another book.

“Can I presume you’ve read this book as well?” he asked. I nodded. “Okay, why don’t you tell me what class books you read last year for school?” I listed the tenth grade books to the best of my memory. He nodded each time, seeming impressed by the list. “Okay, so since you’re pretty much past the rest of the class and sitting in my class is literally boring you, why don’t I assign you a different syllabus? I looked over your English transcripts for this year. You were reading Greek poetry?
Lysistrata?
” I nodded. “Why don’t we keep with that? I’ll bring in a few assignments tomorrow. In the meantime, I want you to work on this.”

I looked at the paper he gave me. It was poetry. I had
to analyze, write questions and answers then explain it as well as give examples. “Fine.” He went back speaking with the monitor. I started the assignment. I barely finished when the monitor told me that detention was over. Fine, I did my time. When I finally left the building, I was so ready to be out of there. As soon as I got outside, I opened my cell and called Terrence to vent. I knew he’d understand.

“Hey, what up?” he said, after answering on the second ring. He seemed rushed and in a hurry.

“Nothing, I just needed to talk,” I said.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“When are you coming home?” I asked.

“This weekend, I hope. Why, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. I just now got out of detention.”

“Detention? What are you doing getting detention?”

“Stupid teacher got pissed ’cause I was doing trig in his English class. I already knew the stupid book the rest of the class was doing. I read it last year at Hazelhurst. It’s like going over the same stuff a million times.”

“Sometimes you just gotta deal,” he said plainly.

“Deal? Nah, it was boring, so I started doing my trig work.”

“You know you can’t do that. There’s no way you’d do that at Hazelhurst, would you?”

“I wouldn’t be bored at Hazelhurst.”

“You can’t just play this off like it’s a game, Kenisha. This is for real. If you want to go back to private school, you need to keep your grades up and stay out of trouble.”

He was going on about everything he thought I needed
to do and not once did he even sound like he was on my side. “You know I called you ’cause I thought you’d be on my side.”

“I am on your side,” he said.

“Don’t sound like it.”

“I’m only telling you what you already know. You were wrong, and you know it.”

“That’s not the point, and besides, now the teacher wants to give me additional assignments in class.”

“Good,” he said.

“What do you mean good? I don’t need extra work. I’m doing my class work at Penn Hall plus keeping up with the work at Hazelhurst. I think that’s enough. I don’t need more.”

“Consider it a challenge. Look, I got class in about two minutes. I gotta go.”

“Yeah, a’ight go, bye,” I said, hanging up and not giving him a chance to say goodbye. I seriously didn’t need to hear his drama. I expected him to be on my side. Instead he was siding with them. I crossed the parking lot but stopped when I recognized a car parked on the far side. It was Darien. He got out when he saw me coming. “Hey,” he said, leaning on the hood.

“Hey,” I said, not in a great mood.

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

I looked at him standing there smiling. He was tempting, and I was pissed after dealing with the English teacher, detention and Terrence. Talking to him was a total waste of time. So not thinking, I said sure and got in the car. I sat there as he drove. The music was loud,
but the windows were up all the way. I rested my head back on the soft leather and tried to relax. There was something about being here that made me uneasy. Maybe it was the whole idea that Darien was who he was or how he was.

“How’d you know I was staying after school today?”

“I hear things,” he said, cryptically.

“Like what?”

“Your mom died,” he said, totally taking me off-guard.

“Yeah, so?” I said easily, trying to sound like I wasn’t fazed by his remark.

“You’re hanging with TB.”

“Who?” I asked having no idea who he was talking about.

“Terrence Butler.”

“What about him? You know him?” I asked. He didn’t answer.

“I also heard that you used to kick it with LaVon Oliver.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“You weren’t with LaVon?”

“Yeah, we hung out for a while, and then it was over. He calls, but I never look back,” I said, trying to sound like I got it like that. We stopped at a traffic light, and I saw a couple of girls on the corner staring at the car. I could see them, but they couldn’t see me ’cause the glass was smoked so dark. “So who are you hanging with now?” I asked, curiously, “Sierra?”

“Told you, nobody,” he said, looking at me smiling. He had a nice smile. “I’m tired of dealing with all her drama. She may be seventeen, but she still act like a kid. She calls me all the time, always on my case wanting to talk.”

Just as he said that, my cell rang. I pulled it out and looked at the number. It was LaVon. I started laughing. Darien looked at me. I shook my head. “It’s LaVon. We need to introduce him to Sierra so they can both get a life and stop calling.” We laughed. It was funny, something else we had in common.

I started talking to him about school and what happened earlier. He got it. He completely understood. Why Terrence couldn’t be like that, I have no idea. We started talking about other things as we drove around. It took twenty minutes to get to my grandmother’s house. We took the long way home.

When we pulled in front of the house, I felt weird about just getting out like that. Talking to Darien was kind of nice. He really understood me. I grabbed my bookbag and started to open the door. “Wait,” he said.

I stopped and turned around. Just as I did, he leaned over and kissed me. It was hard, like he really meant it. He pulled my waist to his body and held me while we kissed. When it was over, I moved back to my side of the car. I started to leave again. “You taste good,” he said, holding my hand.

I smiled and then got out of the car. Luckily nobody was out. So no one saw me getting out of his car. By nobody I mainly meant my grandmother. She’d probably have a fit.

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