Teenie (5 page)

“Look at
this
chick.”

When I turn around, I see this chunky light-skinned girl waiting at the corner, crammed into a top and matching skirt that are at least three sizes off. She’s wearing a small, while her exposed gut is calling for an extra-large. I know I shouldn’t talk with my short dress, but there are some people out here that really don’t know how to act at the first sign of warm weather. It’s the beginning of March, and you would think it’s the middle of summer with some of the stuff they’re wearing.

Cherise is about to say something to the girl. I grab my best friend’s arm before her smart mouth gets us into trouble. The girl’s belly isn’t the only thing that’s extra-large. I think she would stomp the DNA out of Cherise and me. She doesn’t notice us and gets into a dollar van that pulls up in front of her. It’s kind of stupid to call a cab that costs two bucks to ride a dollar van, but that’s been their name since I’ve been riding them.

I bet the driver couldn’t wait to cruise around with the windows open blasting the newest dancehall music. Who needs an iPod? All I have to do is stand on the corner of a busy intersection and I’m bound to hear everything from R&B to reggaeton.

Honestly, when I see this, even the fat girl, it makes me love living here. This is just a typical day and there’s so much life. I smile and take a deep breath and think, What’s not to love about Brooklyn? A truck blows past, leaving me hacking in a trail of black smoke. I guess that answers my question.

“T
eenie! What are you doing? Will you come over here and help me?”

We’re in a department store with all the name-brand stuff at really cheap prices. I’m supposed to be helping Cherise find clothes, but I’ve been too busy counting all the surveillance cameras. I may be no good at uncovering the top-quality clothing (because it’s mixed in with the kind of stuff Garth would wear), but I sure can spot a camera. There are like twenty of them in here!

Cherise is a pro. While she dives right into the racks, I stand stiff and look around nervously, like I’m about to steal something. I can’t put my finger on it, but something is just not right. I catch a few wary eyes from some of the security personnel wondering if I am up to no good. That’s what this
feels like: stealing. My apprehension only lasts until Cherise shoves a cute burgundy skirt into my hands.

“Oh, you’re gonna try that on,” she says with a smile before jumping back into the rack.

The next thing I know, I’m holding like seven outfits in my arms at the checkout line. Cherise has one or two more shirts than I do, and when we get rung up at the register, it comes to $484.61. Cherise hands the cashier the card. I’m just waiting for the SWAT team to come busting out of the ceiling. I hold my breath as the cashier swipes the card. Something’s gonna go wrong, I can feel it. Cherise can see how nervous I look and elbows me in the side, giving me her
You better cut it out
face. The receipt starts printing, and I take a deep breath. We’re home free.

Cherise gets hungry again, so I treat her to pizza at the café on Hanson Place. It’s the least I can do after she hooked me up with the clothes. I can hardly eat, because my mind is on everything else but food.

“What is your problem, Teenie?”

I understand Cherise more from the look in her eyes than the words coming from her mouth. It’s full of pepperoni and cheese. “Nothing, I’m just not that hungry.”

She knows I’m lying, glaring at me while she drops her slice and wipes her mouth with one of the fifty napkins we’ve wastefully pulled from the dispenser. She sips at her Sprite, about three or four gulps, but her eyes stay fixed on me. She sucks at a space between her teeth before taking her finger to pry out the piece of tomato stuck there.

“You really gotta loosen up, girl. You act like such a shrib sometimes. I can tell what you’re worrying about, so just stop it.”

“What are you talking about? I’m fine.” I’m trying my best to look comfortable. I even take a big bite of the pizza, but it’s such a chore to chew it.

“You got some new clothes for free. Ain’t nothing gonna happen when I go out tonight, and chatting with Greg is gonna be way easier than you think. Okay? Damn!!!”

That’s why she’s my best friend. She knows me so well, and as soon as she says that, the pizza’s not so gross-looking anymore. I smile, showing some teeth, and she sighs loudly. I relax a little, and we lose track of time. We start going through each other’s bags, making suggestions about how we should dress for school tomorrow. I have to admit we really got some nice stuff. “So what would I wear this with?” I’m holding up a tight brown T-shirt with a crazy-looking Afro chick on the front of it.

“Lemme see what you got in there.” Cherise rummages through the bag and pulls out a tan-colored, half-cut Sean John jacket. “You could wear it with this.”

“What about if I wore it under one of the button-down shirts I have at home but leave the buttons open?”

Cherise smiles and says, “Yeah, that’ll work too. You can mix some of your geek clothes with what you bought, and it might actually look nice.”

“True.”

“I can’t wait to see Sabrina’s face when she sees your new style.”

“I don’t get that girl sometimes. Why is she so stink?”

“She’s jealous of you.”

“Of me?”

“Yeah, you’re smart. She’s dumber than dumb. I know I say some stupid stuff sometimes, but … What?”

She stops when my eyebrows shoot up. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. “No, nothing,” I say. “You were talking about Sabrina being dumb.”

“Right. The next time she gets on you, you need to put her in her place.”

“What, like say some jokes about her mother?”

“Nah, her mother’s like some big-time model or something. Just stick with cracking on Sabrina. Say something like, ‘Sabrina, you’re so dumb, you spent ten minutes staring at a carton of orange juice because it said concentrate.’ ”

I shoot Sprite through my nose. That is hee-larry-us. “How do you come up with these things?” I ask, trying to dry the soda from my nose. It’s burning!

“Come on, it’s not that hard. Try it out.”

“I can’t think of anything.”

“Just try.”

“Okay.” There is one that I made up a long time ago, but I’m not sure it’s funny. “Sabrina is so dumb …” I suck my teeth and shake my head. “No, it’s stupid, Cherise.”

“Just say it.”

“Alright, alright. Sabrina is so dumb that she had to do a project on euthanasia and she started talking about teenagers in Japan.” The look on Cherise’s face leaves no doubt that my joke missed the mark, even before she says, “I don’t get it.”

I try to explain it to her. “So euthanasia is assisted suicide, like mercy killing, and it sounds like ‘youth in Asia.’ You know, like kids in Japan or something.”

She eyes me for a moment, then cracks a smile and says, “Hey, that’s not bad” and giggles a little. “But I got a better one. Sabrina is so dumb she couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel.”

“Stop, stop,” I say in between laughs. “I’m gonna pee my pants.” She starts talking about Sabrina’s ashy feet again and keeps me cracking up.

“They looked like they were ready to throw in the frying pan. Looking like she had flour and bread crumbs on her crusty feet.”

“Have you ever thought about doing stand-up?”

“Maybe someday.”

“Oh, my stomach.” Cherise starts digging through her bag again, so I say, “Trying to figure out what you’re gonna wear to school tomorrow?”

“Nah. I’ll do that when I get home. I’m trying to pick out what I’m wearing tonight.” My smile disappears. She pulls something out of the bag and asks, “How about this one?”

“That’s nice.” I’m not even looking.

“Ohh. This is even better. I forgot I bought it.” I look up and see her admiring a black dress that fit her like a glove when she tried it on in the fitting room. I try to smile, even though that’s probably the last thing in her bag I’d want her to wear. “I’m so glad you didn’t tell your father that I was staying there tonight.”

“Yeah, that would’ve messed you up big-time. OH, CRAP!!!!! Cherise, what time is it?”

“Five o’clock.”

“Oh my God, I gotta get home.” I totally forgot that I had to beat Beresford to the house. If he catches me in this dress, I am so gonna be dead.

Cherise and I hug and part ways at the train station. I’m in such a rush that I miss her cheek and kiss her ear. Cherise yells to me, “I’m gonna be online for a little while before I go out” while I’m running toward the turnstiles.

I turn and yell, “Okay” and knock over a little Asian man who sells DVDs on the train. He mumbles something, gives me a nasty look, and unleashes a barrage of words I don’t know or understand. Cherise runs over and squats down beside him, yanking me down in the process. “Help him.”

“But I gotta go.”

“Now! Help him.” She points behind me with her mouth, and I see Beresford going through the turnstile.

“Oh God, Cherise. What the hell am I gonna do?”

“Gimme your ID card.”

“What?”

“Will you gimme the damn card?!”

Cherise and I trail Beresford, darting in and out of the shadows like a pair of hungry wolves. We’re stationed behind a delivery truck while we go over the plan.

“Aight, Teenie, when that light changes, you get moving like a runaway slave.”

The plan is for Cherise to jog up to my dad and tell him that I dropped my ID card. She’s gonna stall him long enough for me to run around the block and beat him to the house. “Why can’t you take my bags for me, Cherise?”

“I’m not taking those home. I don’t even know where I’m gonna hide the stuff that I already have.”

“I thought your mother didn’t care about you getting new stuff.”

“She ain’t gonna be mad about me getting new stuff, she’ll just take it and wear it herself. If those bags come home with me, you can kiss them goodbye.”

I clutch the bags close to my chest.

“Enough talking, Teenie. If we don’t time this right, you’re dead. You ready?”

I take a deep breath and nod my head. The light changes, and Cherise starts jogging after my dad. I take off around the corner as she starts calling, “Mr. Lashley. Mr. Lashley.”

I’m glad I wore these sneakers, because I’m moving like a cheetah. The only problem is I have to stop every now and then to pull my dress down. There are some nasty old men saying things to me. They’re disgusting, some of them old enough to be my grandfather. I don’t have time to worry about that crap. The only thing on my mind is getting inside that front door before Beresford spots me.

Since I’m stuck running with these bags, I wish I would’ve bought one thing that I could hide under, but everything is as tight if not tighter than my dress. Hopefully none of my neighbors are looking out of their windows.

My lungs are burning by the time I reach the front door.
I’m so used to putting my keys in my pocket that I’m patting my sides, forgetting they’re in my book bag. It’s taking me too long to get the book bag off because the shopping bags are around my arms. I’m looking down the block, hoping Beresford doesn’t turn the corner. Okay, I have the keys in my hand. I’m almost inside, disaster averted. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the front door to my house opening. My heart stops, because my mother is standing in the doorway.

P
eople outside my family think my father’s the one who runs things. Yeah, he yells a lot and gave out the spankings when I was younger, but it’s my mother that’s in charge. I can deal with my father’s complaining. I’m immune to it now. Well, that’s stretching it a little. Anyway, my mother has this way of looking at me that just makes me feel so small. We’re the same height, but I feel myself shrinking with each passing second. I don’t even have to meet her eyes to feel that gaze, that
I’m so disappointed in you right now
look. It seems like an hour before she finally speaks.

“Martine.”

Ugh, the way she just said my name, no anger in her voice at all. It’s that calmness that convinces me I’m in for it.

“Is that how you went to school this morning?”

I know not to say a word. I just nod my head, keep my eyes on the floor. Anything I say can and will be used against me.

“Hmph,” she grunts.

I know she’s smiling, but that’s not a good thing. When my mother smiles like that, she is pissed. I’m breathing really heavily and I haven’t even looked up at her yet. She’s waiting for me to lift my head so she can finish scolding me. She won’t move until I do. I look up, slowly, look away, and then meet her eyes.

“Don’t
ever
let me see you outside dressed like that again. Do you understand me?”

My eyes are back on the ground. That “ever” had some serious emphasis on it. I might as well burn this dress, because I’m never wearing it again.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, young lady.”

I look up. I’m close to tears. I hate disappointing my mother, hate having her upset with me.

“Do you understand me?” she repeats herself. That’s never good.

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Go inside and change your clothes.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

As I try to hurry past her, I bump her with one of the shopping bags. She is so upset by my dress that she hadn’t noticed them until that instant. She puts her arm out, blocking my way.

“What’s that?” she asks, pointing at the bags.

“Cherise and I went shopping today.”

“Let me see.”

I don’t even put up a fight. I’m in trouble regardless, so it’s best to just hand over the goods. She sifts through the bags,
carefully checking the price tags on each piece of clothing.

“Martine.”

Oh no. That voice again.

“These clothes amount to over two hundred dollars. Where did you get the money for them?”

“Cherise got them for me,” I whisper, hoping she won’t ask me again.

“Excuse me? I didn’t catch that.”

“I said Cherise got them for me.” I make sure to keep any hint of annoyance out of my voice.

“Oh really?” Her eyebrows arch when she hears that. I look away and see my father coming up the block. I start crying and drop my head in shame. Now I’m really gonna get it, double-teamed. My mother sees him too. She shoves me inside the door and says, “Go inside and take that dress off right now. Take these bags and put them inside your closet, and don’t touch them until I come home.”