Teenie (7 page)

“Martine.”

“Hmm?” I pop up and wipe the side of my mouth.

“Come go in your bed.”

I rub my eyes and say, “Okay, Daddy. I just need to shut down the computer.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night.”

I wait to hear the sound of his bedroom door close before I turn the monitor back on.

Ugh. That’s what I get for leaning too hard on the keyboard.

“M
artine, time for school.”

I hear the door close behind my mother, and that’s it. Where’s my song? I sit up as the shock of it hits me. Even when she and Beresford go on vacation, she still calls and sings to me. She’s been doing it for so long that I kind of took it for granted. If she’s mad enough to skip my song, she might bring the hammer down on me later.

I start thinking about Greg, and the smile from last night returns. But then reality sets in. What am I going to wear?! I mope my way into the bathroom and shower in the dark. One of those new dresses would do the trick, but there’s no use thinking about things that I can’t have. I press my forehead against the wall and pray that an outfit will just come oozing out of the showerhead. Beresford knocks on the door a few
times to remind me that he still has to pay the water bill. The last knock made the walls shake.

I come out of the shower and head straight for my closet. It feels more like a death march, like I’m walking to the electric chair. I open the closet door, silently hoping that the bag of clothes is still in there. My mother must’ve moved them when I was in the bathroom. Not like I would’ve worn them anyway.

I sigh, disappointed, and drop onto my bed. I knew that I was forbidden to wear the new clothes, but now I’m forced to make a decision. I take out my cornrows and put my hair in a ponytail. It looks nice because it has this kinky, wavy thing going on. Even so, how am I going to keep Greg interested if I’m wearing button-down shirts and Gap khakis?

Sulking on the edge of my bed, I notice a box sitting on my desk. There’s a note on top of it.

Inside the box are three velour sweat suits. Even though I know a punishment is coming, I can’t help but smile and wonder how my mother knew that these things were in style. Funny, if Cherise hadn’t pointed one out to me at the mall, I wouldn’t have known myself. They don’t have any tags on them, so I’m assuming they are some of her old clothes. Thank God my mother takes care of everything she buys. These
things look almost new. She says that fashion goes in cycles so she doesn’t throw much of her stuff away.

To say the velour suit fits perfectly would be an understatement. I’ll ask her if I can dig through some of her boxes in the attic. I’m bound to find some more nice stuff up there.

“I’m feeling that velour! Where’d you get it?” Cherise seems impressed when I see her in the subway.

“My mother gave it to me. I decided not to wear one of the things we bought from the mall.”

I practiced saying that line over and over on the walk to the train. Of course it didn’t come out right. Maybe I should’ve waited until she actually
asked
me about the clothes we bought yesterday before I said anything. Cherise’s face is full of doubt as she hears my excuse. She sees through me like I’m a pane of glass. I tell her what happened when I got home yesterday, and she almost flips.

“Damn, Teenie, I swear. You so stupid sometimes. Why you had to tell her I bought them for you?”

“What was I supposed to say? I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know. Why you ain’t tell her you saved up your money or something?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“What did she do with the clothes?”

I look away and don’t answer.

“Ugh.” She shakes her head and sucks her teeth. “You’re the worst!”

I keep quiet for a while, hoping she’ll get over it, and give
her a Claritin as a peace offering. She takes it and stares at me for a little longer, then changes the subject.

“He never showed up,” she sighs.

“Who?”

“You see how you stay? Get a little attention from a boy and totally forget about your friends.”

“Oh! Big Daddy. What happened?”

“Did I tell you I was meeting with Big Daddy?”

“No.”

“So stop making assumptions then.”

“So if it wasn’t him, then who were you supposed to meet?”

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Fine. Go ahead.”

“I was supposed to meet
him
at Penn Station. You know that waiting area with all the chairs?”

“By the escalators?”

“Yup. I was sitting there for like a hour. I didn’t see him, so I just went back home.”

“Your mother didn’t say nothing when you came in so late?”

She sucks her teeth again. “She wasn’t even there when I got home. Braxton must’ve come for her.”

“Well, how do you know she didn’t check on you before she left?”

“She didn’t.”

“But how do you know? Couldn’t she have opened your bedroom door and seen that you weren’t there?”

“Did I get in trouble?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Well, I guess she didn’t check, huh?” She shakes her head and goes back to her story. “Like I was saying, when I got home, I logged on to IM, and he was waiting for me, talking ’bout how he got stuck in the library studying and lost track of the time.”

“Library?” I reach out and touch Cherise’s forehead to check for a fever. “You alright? It ain’t like you to go for the smart ones.”

“Shut up. He could be as smart as he wants. He looks good AND he got money.”

Now that’s the Cherise I know and love. But still … “Maybe I should go with you the next time you see him.”

The look on her face says it all. She’s right, though. There’s no way in hell I’d sneak out of my house in the middle of the night.

Cherise and I linger in the hallway before first period but see no sign of Greg. A few guys try to talk to me, but I’m getting pretty good at smiling and saying no thank you. When Cherise and I walk into class, Mr. Speight is in the middle of a tirade.

“Only four people passed,” he says with disgust, “and only two people got a perfect score.”

There are thirty-some-odd students in the class, so that’s an abysmal pass-to-fail ratio. As Mr. Speight makes mention of the perfect scores, all thirty-some students look over at me. It doesn’t help that Mr. Speight glances in my direction.
Everyone knows I got the ten out of ten. Cherise is most likely the other since she copied all of my answers. I try to tell her to get at least one wrong so things won’t look suspicious. The girl never listens.

“I must be a bad teacher, because that quiz was really not that difficult. And question six, come on, people.”

During gym, we get stuck inside on the eighth floor. It’s overcast outside and the teacher doesn’t want to risk getting caught in a downpour. The rest of the girls are playing volleyball. I hate volleyball, so I convince Cherise to shoot hoops with me at the other end of the gym.

“Spread your fingertips out on the ball and leave a little space between the ball and the palm of your hand. Don’t forget to keep your elbow in.” I don’t even know why I’m wasting my breath, because Cherise uncorks a heave that would have made a shot-putter proud. I feel sorry for the backboard after her shot ricochets to the other side of the court. I chase the ball down, apologizing to the other girls for interrupting their stupid volleyball game, and show Cherise how it’s done.

Cherise is shaking her head after watching me hit jump shots from all over the court. “That’s just ridiculous, Teenie. No girl should be able to shoot like that.”

“And why the hell not?”

She thinks for a few seconds. “They just shouldn’t, that’s all.”

“Don’t hate, congratulate,” I say just as I flick up another jumper. It misses badly.

“That’s what you get for talking crap. I’m going to play volleyball.”

Cherise runs over to the other side of the gym and leaves me to work on my form. If there’s one benefit to having two older brothers, it’s learning how to shoot a basketball. Wazi and Kari had me shooting on a ten-foot rim when I was five years old. Basketball is a big deal in my house. Beresford is a big Knicks fan, and my brothers play on the basketball team at the University of Maryland.

With my jump shot, I’m more than good enough to be on the girls’ team, but I have too much going on this year. Maybe I’ll try out next year if I’m not in Spain.

Beresford was disappointed, but not nearly as much as the gym teacher, who’s watching me drain my seventh foul shot in a row. He’s also the girls’ basketball coach and he has made repeated attempts to get me to join the team. When I asked him if I could shoot at the other end of the gym, he basically ran into his office to get me a ball.

“Martine.”

Someone’s whispering at the door. I’ve seen too many horror movies to go skipping over, only to get chopped into little pieces. When I hear my name called again, I lean over as far as I can to the left, cocking my head to get a better angle on the slight opening in the door. I feel even worse when the door opens wider and I can see who’s calling me. It’s Greg.

He peeks in to see where the teacher is, then fixes his eyes on me, smiles, waves me over. He wants me to step outside of the gym. I look over my shoulder and see that my teacher’s distracted,
trying to get between two girls who are arguing. I slip out and join him in the hallway.

“What’s up, Shorty?”

He opens his arms to hug me. He gives some serious love with his hugs, the kind that makes me feel all warm and mushy inside. I almost don’t want to let go, but if I don’t, I might faint, because this boy’s cologne is making me light-headed. I blink rapidly when he lets go, trying to keep my cool. He steps back so we can talk but holds on to my hand, rubbing the top of it with his thumb. I take in what he is wearing and notice that his lime green zip-up hoodie is open. Underneath, he has on a Bob Marley T-shirt hanging over a light pair of jeans. His sneakers match the hoodie perfectly. “How did you know I had gym this period?”

“I have my ways.” He winks and smiles. His smile is so sexy. “I work in the principal’s office, so I pulled up your schedule. This is my lunch period—I just wanted to come up and say what’s up.”

“Okay.” My heart is racing right now. After last night’s conversation on IM, I can barely make eye contact with him.

“I see you gotta nice li’l jump shot.”

I smile. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that? Your dad teach you?”

I nod my head and smile. Why did I answer yes? My dad was a soccer player and couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a basketball. It’s too late for me to tell the truth, because Greg looks through the gym door and changes the subject.

“So you got Mr. S.?”

I have no idea whom or what he’s talking about.

“Mr. S., Mr. Scarinbolasaster,” he says, referring to my gym teacher.

“Oh yeah, Mr. S.” I smile, nod my head, try to play it off. Scarinbolasaster, that’s some name. He licks his lips, and I turn my eyes to a sign showing the fire safety route. I’ve never paid attention to it before, but my neck is burning up, and I may just have to evacuate.

“I can’t stand that dude.” Anger flashes across his face but he blinks it away. “So you coming to the game later?”

“The game?”

“Yeah … the play-offs … ?”

He’s looking at me like I’m supposed to know.… “Oh! The play-off game.” I’m such a loser. I knew all about the game. There are signs plastered all over school announcing it. The local newspapers say we don’t have a chance in hell to beat Grady. God, I am so nervous. He smells so good that I’m having a hard time concentrating. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“I know the newspapers say we’re gonna get waxed, so we need all the support we can get.”

“What time does the game start?”

“Four-thirty.”

“Okay.” I knew that. Why am I asking such retarded questions? He senses it, and after a few awkward seconds, he says, “Aight then. I’ll holla at you later.”

“Okay, bye.”

We hug again and I turn to walk away but he doesn’t let go of my hand. He pulls in close and kisses me. A wave of heat
rushes through my body. I’ve played spin the bottle and truth or dare, but this is the first kiss where I actually wanted to kiss the guy. I never imagined that lips could feel that soft. He steps back and smiles, as if admiring his work, before he pushes through the door to the stairwell. I can still smell him after he walks away.

I must’ve held my breath for the entire kiss, because when that door shuts, I find myself gasping for air. My head is spinning and I start to get woozy. I stumble back toward the wall and slide down. There’s a tingling in my tummy, something I’ve never experienced before. I need to get some air because the heat in my belly is spreading all throughout my body. I don’t know what’s happening. A smile breaks out on my face, something like that dumb smile Cherise gets.

The door to the gym swings open and bangs against the wall. The noise startles me, and I leap to my feet.

“Are you okay, young lady?”

Considering that Mr. Scarin-whatever caught me sprawled on the floor with a drunken glaze on my face, it’s a fair question. There’s nothing I can say really. I breeze past him and run back to the basketball, sink another ten in a row.

“T
eenie kissed Greg!” Cherise broadcasts the breaking news to the crew at the lunch table. I kick her in the heel for having such a big mouth, even though I’m grinning from ear to ear.