Pushin' (11 page)

The line for auditions is long, with partners practicing outside, including Laura and Reid, who look thrilled to see me alone. While Chance or Chase or whoever he is today continues to go through his identity crisis, I'm still without a leading man. What the hell am I going to do now? I walk through the crowd and into the drama room on the way to the theater, anxious to sign up.

“Congratulations on your win, Jayd,” Emilio says from where he's standing near the main stage door. What the hell is he doing all the way down here?

“Yeah, you too,” I say, passing him by to find the sign-up sheet in its usual spot on the podium. I take the clipboard and flip the pages until I find an empty slot. With all five periods combined, there are over one hundred and fifty drama students, not to mention the other fifty or so students not in the class who want to try out for the last play of the year. Emilio continues standing over my shoulder and I continue trying to ignore him. I sign my name in one of four available slots for the dialogue auditions, praying someone comes through for me by the end of the period. This dude has a lot of nerve talking to me after that little show he and his godfather put on at Mama's house yesterday afternoon. I've successfully avoided Emilio all day long, but he's caught me off guard in the last place I'd expect to see him.

“Jayd, I couldn't help but notice you have no one to read the scene with,” Emilio says, following me off stage and out of the theater.

“You could've helped if you weren't peeping over my shoulder.” I glance back at Emilio, shooting him an evil look before heading out the back door. It's a warm day, and being outside is better than sitting in the dark, air-conditioned class any day. Realizing I've left my playbook on the podium, I turn around and rush to the stage to retrieve it before someone else picks it up, with Emilio right on my heels. What does he want now?

“I can be your leading man, if you can convince your grandmother to help us,” Emilio says, stepping onto the stage. Did he hear what I just said? My mom's powers have been working overtime trying to beat Misty and Esmeralda at their own games. But I can't deal with Emilio and his problems right now. I'm still high from winning the election a few minutes ago and this fool's taking it away.

“Emilio, give it a rest,” I say, claiming the booklet.

“We don't have the gift like your grandmother's line. Had I known which house you were from, I would not have…,” he says, ready to beg, but I'm cutting his shit short. I have less than forty minutes to find another partner and he's wasting my time.

“You would not have what, Emilio?” I ask, cutting him off before he can force his foot any further down his throat. “Not demeaned Africans in America by saying we let our ancestors die, including my lineage?”

“Exactly. No, what I mean to say is that you are different,” Emilio says, now breathing shoe polish.

“Different? That sounds worse than when white folks say that shit to me.” I turn around and stare at the backdrop of costumes, scene changes, and other students anxiously rehearsing scenes for the auditions all over the theater. They probably think we're rehearsing, too. Without a partner to perform with, I'll have to forfeit and possibly set myself up for a part in the chorus or as an extra, since this is my last opportunity for a solid A. I'm not going out like that, but I can't perform with this jerk, either.

“Jayd, please. I knew there was something special about you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. You shine, my princess.” Emilio bends over and touches the ground, bowing to my head like devotees do when they greet Mama. Oh, now this fool is really tripping, doing this at school where everyone can see. I think I liked it better when Emilio was mad at me and thought I came from a long line of promiscuous women.

“Okay, enough with all of that,” I say, pulling him up by his shoulder straps. I don't want to rip his backpack, but if he doesn't get up soon, it's over. “What do you really want?”

“Your
abuelita
as our iyalosha. What will it take? We will do anything she asks of us if she'll agree to join our house.” Mama's not keen on joining any organizations—religious, social, or otherwise.

“Didn't she already tell you no? It's the same answer in Spanish, too, so I know you understood her the first time.” Mrs. Sinclair calls the next couple into the drama room to audition. I'm up next with no Chance. What am I going to do?

“Jayd, we are desperate. Please, convince her it's the right road to take. Otherwise, we will have to ask someone else and she may not be happy with the result.”

“Are you threatening my grandmother?” I ask, ready to punch this punk in his scheming mouth. Emilio's not to be trusted—ever. I knew that from our first encounter months ago when he decided to kiss me at lunch, causing more tension between Jeremy and me than we already had at the time.

“It only sounds like that because you're listening with your ego and not your mind,” he says. “Just like the auditions, Jayd. It's a means to an end, that's all.”

“You are something else, you know that? If you knew anything about my lineage you'd back the hell off while you still can,” I say, ready to make some threats of my own. “This conversation is over,” I say, picking up my script and heading for the classroom. If Chance doesn't show up I'll just have to deal with the disappointment on my own.

“Jayd, I've been looking for you all over the place, girl,” Nigel says, jogging down the aisle. “Chance called me to come rescue you.” Nigel hugs me and shows me his script.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, completely confused. Nigel's not an actor last time I checked. Emilio, not taking the hint, stands his ground. Doesn't he know when a girl's not interested?

“Jayd, you're up,” Matt says. He, Seth, and Alia run all the behind-the-scenes production issues, including helping with auditions. “Where's Chance?” he asks, noticing my buddy's missing. Emilio smiles cunningly like he knows he's got me trapped.

“Here he is,” I say, taking Nigel's hand and walking toward the side door leading to the drama room. Matt shakes his head, laughing at my joke and walks back through the door with us behind him. I look back at Emilio, whose smile has turned into a frown. Oh well. He should know better than to try and corner a Williams woman. We always find another way.

“Now you know this ain't my thing,” Nigel says, looking nervously through the wrinkled script. “Chance said all I have to do is read the highlighted parts and I'm good.”

“Just be yourself and you'll do fine,” I say, squeezing my friend's hand. “And aren't you missing class right now?”

“I told my math teacher I wanted to audition for the spring play. Me and that old white dude don't get along at all; he was actually happy to see me go,” Nigel says, opening the door facing Mrs. Sinclair and her groupies. She's the ultimate judge and jury, but her fan club gets to throw their opinions in the mix, too. “Chance sounded really bad about leaving you hanging, and I couldn't let my girl fall.” I'm glad to know one of my school friends feels that way. Leave it to the heffas I thought were my best friends and I'd be down for the count.

“Thank you, Nigel. I owe you one,” I say, ready to get the show on the road and this day over. And what a day it has been. First Esmeralda forced her way into my thoughts this morning, then I won the ASU election, and now Nigel's my drama partner. This has been the most unpredictable and exhausting day ever. I can't wait for Friday to arrive so I can chillax for a day or two. With the final day for cheer tryouts Friday afternoon and Jeremy's surf competition on Saturday, I'm sure it'll be a good weekend to get in some much needed quality time for me and my baby. We've both had so much on our plates we've barely had time to break bread together. We'll make up for it this weekend: no bitches, broads, or tricks allowed.

I
t's been a long week. Wednesday was the longest day, starting with Esmeralda's evil ass and ending with Nigel becoming my leading man. Now Nellie and Mickey are hating on me harder than ever before. When Nigel came to my rescue Wednesday afternoon, Mickey found out about it and went off, saying that Nigel doesn't have time to be in a play, but Mrs. Sinclair thought differently, offering Nigel and me the parts on the spot. I was so surprised I almost kissed Nigel on the cheek but held back, and so did he. At first Nigel wasn't going to accept it, but he's reconsidering the offer. And once Nellie found out that Chance put him up to it, it was a wrap.

Nellie accused me of trying to turn their boyfriends against them, which is purely insane. Nigel's not going anywhere, and Nellie's doing a good job of turning her man off all by herself. Things between Nellie and me are only bound to get worse if I make the squad this afternoon. Nellie will probably lose her mind if she doesn't make the cut, but it's not my fault the girl has no rhythm. They'll post the new cheerleaders' names in the gym at lunch, which is where I'm headed. The new squad will rehearse after school with plenty of celebrating to follow.

There's a large crowd around the gym announcement board, Misty and Nellie included. There are girls everywhere, some screaming and most crying. From the look of it, Nellie's been crying her eyes out already.

“You made it!” Shauna exclaims, jumping up and down with Alicia right by her side. They both hug me and I can't help but join in the excitement. I feel bad for Nellie, but if it were the other way around I doubt she'd share the love. Alicia and Shauna let me go to continue the celebratory congratulations. Now that that's over, I can spend the rest of my lunch with Jeremy. I can't wait to share the news.

“This is my dream, Jayd. Get your own life,” Nellie says, now frantically crying, she's so upset at the results. It's not my fault. All black people can't dance and she proved that at the solo tryouts yesterday. Nellie's good at following orders, but originality isn't her strongest feature. We could've rehearsed together, but she was too busy stabbing me in the back with her new best friend, Misty, to see clearly. Misty doesn't even look like she cares about not making the squad, which leads me to believe it was never about that at all. I knew that trick didn't want to be a cheerleader, so what's she really up to?

“Jayd's specialty is stealing other people's desires, isn't it?” Misty says, and we both know she's one step away from getting her curly head bit off, bringing up my mother's powers. I can't wait to get this broad once and for all. Lucky for her, my jade bracelets are keeping me cool and with my protection potion running through my veins, I know Misty's no threat to me this afternoon.

“You knew this was all about me, Jayd. How could you?” Nellie continues, completely self-absorbed. I hate to be the one to tell her, but with or without my presence, she doesn't have what it takes to be on the squad. If she had professional choreographers helping her, she still wouldn't be able to find her rhythm.

“This is my life, Nellie. You need to get a grip,” I say, attempting to leave the gym, but Nellie won't shut up.

“How are you going to be president of ASU, star in a play with my boyfriend, be a debutante, and then cheer on top of it all?” I admit it's a busy schedule, but nothing I can't handle. A girl's got to push hard if she wants to make it to the top.

“It's not all at the same time, and two of the things are temporary, not that I need to explain my schedule to you,” I say, walking past her toward the open door. “But some of us can walk, chew bubble gum, and juggle at the same time—no offense.” Nellie's so visibly pissed she could have a stroke right there on the basketball court.

Yes, but too much can lead to a meltdown, and you don't want to go there, trust me
, my mom says, quickly intervening with some advice of her own. But now is not the time for counseling. I won fair and square. Nellie and Misty need to back up before it really goes down. This isn't
Gossip Girl,
and I'm not all talk. I will hit a bitch if she keeps testing me, cool head or not.

“See, she's already acting strange, proving she's not fit to be a cheerleader,” Nellie says, convincing herself more and more with each passing moment that there's been a large error made or that she's dreaming. I know how that feels and trust me, this isn't a dream. “It's not fair!” Nellie shouts, strands of blond hair sticking to her tear-streaked cheeks.

“Nellie, grow up,” I say, tired of the tantrum. “Why can't you be happy for me as your friend, and not hating like the jealous bitch you've become?” I ask, now really on a roll. It was one thing for her to be upset because she lost, but another thing altogether for Nellie to continue pissing on my parade. Sure, I wasn't really planning on becoming a cheerleader. But like all challenges, I'm in it to win it and that I did.

Nellie's not up for labor of any kind; she knows it, I know it, and God knows it. She just wanted to join the pep squad for the popularity and perks that come with it, especially now that her Homecoming reign is officially coming to an end.

“Who you calling a bitch?” Nellie asks, her neck rolling and blond tresses waving. If I didn't know better, I'd say that Nellie was ready to throw down, but she's too prissy to fight, unlike Mickey, who'll bite off her acrylics to throw down if necessary. Nellie's trim French manicure would get chipped and that just wouldn't work for Little Miss Princess.

“You. I'm calling you a bitch. Isn't that your favorite homegirl word these days?” I ask, reminding Nellie that it was she who started that train. She's been using the word so damn much I started to believe it myself. “And you know what? I think it's quite an appropriate title for you, especially this year. You've been nothing but mean and rude and selfish, not only to me but to your boyfriend, who in spite of his recent confused behavior is very sweet and loyal to your stuck-up ass. So get a grip and celebrate someone else's happiness for a change.” Finally shutting Nellie up, I march past her toward the rest of the newly appointed cheer squad to congratulate them before I head out.

“Hey, Jayd. If you want we're going to rehearse a little and celebrate at my house after school,” Alicia says. “Not that you need much. It looks like you've got the moves down, but you know how the saying goes.”

“Practice makes perfect,” Shauna offers, like I wouldn't have figured it out myself. But I understand she's excited, so I'll let my smart-ass comment go for now.

“I wish I could, but I have to work this afternoon. Next time I'm there,” I say. Noticing our little powwow, Nellie walks over, looking completely annoyed that the cheerleaders are paying me any mind. I guess she thought that as a member of ASB they would take a natural liking to her, but she was wrong.

“You could never be a cheerleader,” Nellie says, her hazel eyes glowing with rage. Who the hell does she think she's talking to? Has this girl completely lost her mind or what? I look at Misty behind her, recognizing that iced-over glare anywhere: Esmeralda's running this show via Misty. And Nellie's hot head is the perfect receptor.

“Nellie, you need to slow your roll before these pom-poms aren't the only things getting tossed in the air.” I want to help my girl, but she's making it very difficult for me to maintain my cool. Why is she so damn weak? If it weren't for her petty hating, Misty would've never been able to get in her mind in the first place.

“You see what I mean? She's too damn ghetto to represent this school. Can't you see that?” Shauna, Alicia, and the rest of the pep squad look on, dazed by the outburst.

“All I see is a hater on deck. Anybody else feel me?” I ask, making the cheerleaders and other spectators laugh at Nellie's irrational behavior. There must be over two hundred people in this gymnasium and every one of them just heard me. The warning bell for fifth period rings, breaking up our heated debate before it goes too far.

“This isn't over, Jayd,” Nellie says, finally leaving and allowing me a brief moment of relief before heading to find Jeremy before fifth period begins. I know it's not over. With Misty's evil ass in the mix, it never is. But I won this round of school war all week long. I'm ready to give it a rest and get my hustle on.

 

Today's a perfect day to chill by the beach with what's left of my crew. Jeremy's competition is at the pier by the school, so I'm sure more school folks will be in attendance. Hopefully Laura and Reid will sit this gathering out. I've had enough of all of my haters for the week. Too bad the main ones also live in my hood.

Chance came to pick me up at my mom's apartment after I finished working this morning, to make up for ditching me at the auditions yesterday. He's also letting me drive his powerful classic hot rod, almost causing me to forgive him on the spot. It still hurts, but I understand he's going through a lot right now and school's probably the last thing on his mind. Nellie's not talking to him or me, putting us in the same boat. Nigel and Mickey are meeting us at the beach to support Jeremy. I doubt Mickey wanted to go, but after Nigel helped me out Wednesday, she's not letting him out of her sight.

“Damn, Jayd. Ease up on the pedal, baby. You're pushing it a little hard, ain't you?” Chance says, protective of the only baby he has, and for that, I am grateful. At least one of my male friends hasn't knocked somebody up. Technically Nigel didn't either, but he could've, and he's still the baby's daddy as far as we're all concerned.

“I'm like Rihanna up in here,” I say, turning the stereo up louder and allowing Rihanna to sing my theme song as I fly down Pacific Coast Highway. We're arriving at the beach a little early to get a good seat. I'm going to take the opportunity to study my spirit work and relax in the sun. It's rare I get a Saturday afternoon to hang.

“You can pull up right here, Jayd,” Chance says, pointing to an empty space not far from the shore. I park the car, turn off the engine and banging sounds, and hop out of the vehicle with my purse and backpack in tow.

“We should still be able to get a good seat,” Chance says, pointing toward the water. There are people everywhere, including the competing surfers—my baby included. I catch Jeremy's eye and blow a kiss in his direction. He smiles at me and returns his attention to his surfboard. As we get closer to where the competition's taking place, I see Nigel and Mickey have already claimed a seat for us at one of the umbrella-covered picnic tables, giving us an unobstructed view of the ocean. I brought Mickey's belly balm that I meant to give her on Wednesday, just in case she decides to play nice. I know she must be itching for more by now.

“What's up, peeps?” Chance says, giving Nigel dap and Mickey a hug. I put my things down on the table, hug Nigel, and speak to Mickey as well.

“I'm going to grab a quick bite. Anyone else hungry?” Chance asks.

“I'll take a pretzel,” I say, reaching for my purse. Chance gives me the same look Jeremy does when I try to pay.

“I know you didn't insult me like that, right?” Chance asks. I put my purse back on the table and sit down across from Mickey, who puts in her order, too.

“I'll come with you, man,” Nigel says. “You're going to need help carrying all the food.” I grab my backpack, ready to get my study on unless Mickey wants to apologize, which I doubt.

Mickey and I sit in silence for a few moments after the guys leave, neither one of us ready to take the first step toward reconciliation. I couldn't care less if she talks to me, but it seems silly not to be friends right now. I should be overexcited about my recent triumphs and able to share them with my girl, but instead I'm sitting here trying not to look her in the eye. Mickey doesn't know it yet, but she's going to need all the help she can get when that baby comes, and Nellie can't be counted on for something as serious as this. Nickey will be born soon, and there's no time to make enemies out of old friends, especially not good ones.

I reach inside my bag and claim the small container of belly balm to give to Mickey. Tired of the stank vibe, I decide to be the bigger woman and suck it up.

“Truce?” I ask, sliding the yellow container across the table. Mickey looks at it and then up at me. Without saying a word, she takes the ointment, opens the top, lifts her stretched-out tank top and smears it all over her stomach, making us both laugh.

“Girl, I needed that,” Mickey says, vigorously rubbing her skin. “I thought I was going to go crazy if I didn't get some more of this stuff. Thank you, Jayd.” For Mickey, that's as close to an apology as I'm going to get, and I'll take it.

“You are very welcome,” I say, reaching across the small table and feeling her hard stomach. It won't be long now.

“Look who's talking,” Nigel says as he and Chance bring over the feast of junk food. Nigel looks more relieved that Mickey and I are cool than I do. I never thought how much stress it puts on Nigel when Mickey starts tripping on me. He was my friend first and will always be there for me, no matter how pissed off Mickey gets. I think she's starting to understand.

“Hey, there's Jeremy's team,” Chance says, pointing at the surfers lining up at the water, ready to dive in. “They're starting now.”

“Go Jeremy!” I yell at the top of my lungs. I doubt he heard me over the loud waves and other sounds from the busy crowd surrounding the shore this afternoon, but it was worth a shot.

“Kick some surfer ass, white boy!” Mickey yells, causing heads to turn. “What did I say?” Nigel, Chance, and I look at our girl and bust up laughing. This is just what we all needed. Hopefully it will stay this light all day and my baby will win the competition. That's all we need to make this day perfect.