The Fight (14 page)

15

Wisdom Biscuits

—
BILLIE HOLIDAY

A
fter I walk away from Misty, the bell rings. I decide to make my way to my locker when I run into Jeremy. “What's up, Jayd? How was the library?” he asks, falling in step with me as I walk down the hall. I don't know how to react. I'm fidgety and, while trying to shift my weight so I can hold my books, look cute, and talk to him at the same time, I drop all of my stuff right in front of him.

“Damn it!” I say, bending down to pick up my books, which are now strewn in the middle of the hall.

“Don't worry about it. Let me help you.” Jeremy's a sweetie, I see. He kneels down and starts picking up errant books and papers.

“Thank you. I'm so clumsy sometimes. To answer your question, the library was cool. Better than being in class. Did I miss anything?” As I pick up the last of my things, I notice my girls walking toward me, laughing.

“Nah, you didn't miss nothing. Listen, I got to go to work. But, I want to talk to you about what you said in Government today. I like the way you handle that old hag,” he says, smiling like a guilty little boy. “Here's my number. Can I get yours, too? I'll program it into my cell and give you a call when I get a chance.” He handed me my English books and his phone number on an index card. I recite my cell number as he punches it into his phone. As Jeremy walks off, Nellie and Mickey arrive.

“Dang, Jayd. I never pegged you for the White boy type, but do your thizzle my nizzle,” Mickey says, eyeing Jeremy as he walks down the hall.

“Mickey, you're too silly sometimes, though we did exchange numbers, and I will be calling him if he doesn't call me first.” I put the stuff I don't need in my locker, grab my backpack, putting my homework and the necessary books inside, and close the locker door. I turn to face Nellie and Mickey, half expecting to see Trecee come my way. “Did y'all come up with any new ways to help me?” I ask as we walk down the hall toward the school parking lot.

“Girl, I don't know what to tell you. Can't your grandmother do something to help you?” Nellie asks, sounding a little scared for me.

“I've tried asking her for help. She only gave me a cleansing again and told me again how I was born, but I guess I'll try again.” Mickey and Nellie look at me sympathetically, though I know they wonder about all the cleansings and Mama's potions. They haven't really asked, and I haven't really explained it all. Maybe one day.

 

 

When my girls drop me off at home, Mama's cooking. The warm scent of bell peppers engulfs the house and I'm instantly hungry.

On the way home, my girls and I talked and talked about the whole Misty–Trecee–KJ situation. All they could suggest was I be prepared for the fight. Mickey said she could get her boyfriend and his gangsta friends to come up there and back us up. Nellie suggested pepper spray for my defense. They're my girls and all, but when it comes to wisdom, Mama's where it's at, even if I don't understand all of what she tells me.

The best time to talk to Mama is when she's in her kitchen. Most nights after she cooks, she's on to
Jeopardy
,
Wheel of Fortune,
and then her private time, which consists of praying, chanting, cleaning her altar, and making remedies for her many clients.

Mama has her apron on, which is covered in flour and sugar and who knows what secret ingredients that make her biscuits so good. She's at her keenest in the kitchen. As she hands me some dough to knead, I ask her about her day.

I can tell she got her hair and nails done. Mama likes to wear her hair tied back in cornrows, sometimes in a bun. And her nails are immaculate. Never too long, never too short, her real nails are covered in acrylic. She says she does it to protect them from the cooking, but I say it's because she likes to get the fancy designs and airbrush polish. Yeah, she's something else.

As Mama turns around to get a biscuit cutter from the cabinet, I update her on my troubles. I tell her all about Trecee and Misty and KJ.

“Have you talked to KJ? I always did like that boy. He's so sweet and he's got a good heart. How are his folks?”

Mama likes everybody at first sight, especially if it's someone we're bringing home for her to meet. She'll smile big and bright and say, “Oh, my house is a mess and so am I. Chile, why you didn't tell me you were bringing company?” Then, she'll put on one of her best house robes and scarves, and go in the kitchen to bake something for the company to munch on.

“Yes, I've talked to KJ and I don't think there's much he can do. She said I put some sort of curse on him to make him defend me. He tried to tell her that was nonsense, but she just kept going on and on about how he just didn't understand.

“Trecee says I'm strange and I'm trying to steal her man and make him strange too. But she's going to save him from me. Now the whole school wants to see this fight that I don't want to have.”

“OK, Jayd, just take a deep breath. Now, you say this girl Trecee thinks you're strange and trying to take KJ away from her. Now, what would give her such a crazy idea?”

“Well, Misty told her—”

“Oh no, not Misty!” Mama says, rolling her eyes and throwing flour in the air.

“That girl is always in the middle of something. Always,” Mama says, almost dropping a biscuit on the floor.

“She needs to get her own life. She's got plenty of drama in hers already, with her mama and grandma fighting all the damn time,” I say, agreeing with Mama, or so I think.

“What did you say, young lady?” Mama asks in a low growl.

Mama is always swearing. When her sugar's up, she'll say, “Goddamn it, thank you Lord Jesus.” But she won't let us cuss around her. I never could figure that one out. I tell Mama I was just agreeing with her and she chooses to let it go.

“That girl needs some help and some prayer,” Mama continues, taking a deep breath and shaking her head from side to side. “Misty has always been jealous of you, Jayd, ever since you two got so close last year.”

Just then, Mama dips the cut biscuits into a bowl of melted butter. She gently presses the biscuit with her fingers so the biscuits are completely submerged in butter. When the once-white biscuits are oozing with butter, Mama takes them out and places the perfectly round yellow biscuit onto the cookie sheet one by one. She hands me the rolling pin and cutting board so I can roll the dough until it's flat while she continues cutting and dipping the biscuits.

“Misty needs something else to worry over. That child's gonna end up in a whirlwind of trouble if she keeps messing with other people's lives like that. Just wait and see. That girl's gonna cross the wrong person one day, and her mouth won't help her then.”

“Mama, I know I'm suppose to be patient with Misty, but she makes it so hard. I just don't know what I did to make Misty hate me so much or be so jealous of me.”

Still cutting and dipping biscuits, Mama takes a big wooden spoon and scoops out a dollop of Crisco from the can. She places the Crisco in an already hot cast-iron skillet to fry some cube steak. I always like to watch the Crisco turn from solid white to crystal clear when it melts.

“Misty's jealousy has nothing to do with you. I'm sure she's had similar problems in the past. The best way to deal with Misty is to be as sweet and calm as you possibly can. Kill it with kindness, Jayd. Kill all evil by being as sweet as you possibly can.”

The Crisco starts to pop in the skillet and Mama has just placed the last biscuit on the sheet. She takes the first piece of cube steak and places it in her “secret batter,” which she uses to fry all meat.

“There's an order to everything. Like I always tell you, write your dreams down. Write down what you want to happen, even something like this school drama. If nothing else, writing may give you some clarity about the situation and even some peace of mind,” Mama says, turning the meat until it's covered with batter and placing each piece strategically into the skillet.

After each piece of cube steak is safe in the hot frying pan, she places the biscuits in the oven. Then we start to work on the green beans, mashed potatoes, and gravy. Snapping beans is usually my favorite job to do, but Jay snapped all of the beans earlier this afternoon, since he gets home from school before I do. So I get to do my least favorite job—peeling hot potatoes.

As I take the first potato out of the pot my fingers begin to turn red from the steam. There is an art to peeling potatoes. If you're not careful and patient, you'll burn yourself. Trust me, I've burned myself several times.

“Just like them potatoes you peeling, Jayd, the situation you're in is hot and must be handled carefully. But everything hot will eventually cool off. Be patient, Jayd, and handle the situation so you don't end up being the one getting burned.”

Speaking of burning things, how Mama knows when her buttermilk biscuits are ready is a mystery to me. When she takes them out of the oven they're always perfectly done—golden brown and nicely risen. Mama always gives me the first biscuit and with every bite I feel like all my troubles will just melt away. Maybe that's why I call them Wisdom Biscuits—after one of these, I know everything will be all right.

 

 

After eating dinner and doing both my school homework and Mama's homework, I can't fall asleep. I wonder if Jeremy's interested in more than just my smart mouth. How can I think about dating a new guy with all this mess around me?

When I get into bed, this mess with Trecee is still really bothering me. I don't want to wake up tomorrow and have to fight this girl. After tossing and turning, I finally fall asleep at about two in the morning, but only to dream about what was keeping me up in the first place, which is worrisome.

Because, like I said before, my dreams tend to prove true in one way or another. In this particular dream, Misty was walking through the main hall as she usually does during sixth period. She's the only office aide who's never actually in the office.

She sees KJ coming out of the boy's bathroom way down at the end of the hallway. She rushes toward him like she hasn't seen him in a long time. Misty's a big girl, if you know what I mean, so if she runs toward someone with the intent to jump on them, she'll probably hurt the person.

KJ doesn't know Misty's coming toward him as he starts walking back to class. Now she's just a few feet away from him. Her eyes are closed, her arms are out in front of her and in one hand she holds her hall pass. Her face is all squinted like she tasted something really foul, and her lips are puckered for the big kiss she's been waiting for.

Misty floors KJ and starts kissing him all over. KJ's so shocked and mortified he can't move. That's when Trecee walks in. As usual, even in my dream, the girl is ditching class and looking for somewhere to hide out.

Trecee sees Misty on top of KJ kissing her man in the middle of the hall. Trecee leaps into the air like a ninja and pounces Misty like a cat after its prey. And the fight is on.

I wake up to the alarm and Mama yelling, “Jayd, Jayd! Don't you hear that alarm, girl? Wake up!”

That was the end of my dream, but the beginning of a very, very long day at school. Misty and KJ? What the hell? Even in a dream the thought makes me sick.

I can't believe this. I can't believe it's already Friday morning and I'm supposed to be fighting this girl. Really, though, I'm not fighting anyone. That's what I've decided. If Trecee hits me, of course, I'll be forced to defend my precious assets, but I refuse to get suspended over this broad or KJ.

16

Misunderstandings and Half Truths

—
LIMP BIZKITS

I
t's another hot, sunny California day. I don't have any problems getting in the bathroom this morning, being that Bryan was out all night and still ain't made it home yet. The roosters from Esmeralda's yard are talking and Mr. Gatlin is watering his lawn. It's just another ordinary morning. So, why do I feel so weird? I've got to talk to KJ. Why do boys always get away with this stuff? I'm still waiting on the apology I'm owed for the way his trifling behind broke up with me. But, that's not what's on my mind today.

Trecee's on my mind. I must admit I'm nervous, but I ain't scared of her. She really is rather scrawny and weak and I'm sure she can't hurt me too bad. But, she's crazy and that does scare me. Crazy people are liable to do anything. I live with crazy people and they always scare the hell out of me, or at the very least surprise me. I know Trecee is full of surprises. I just hope she doesn't pull out too many tricks today.

 

Spanish is always boring, especially because of my teacher, Mr. Donald. He's one of the football coaches, but is still forced to teach a class. I don't think he really speaks Spanish all that fluently, but this is the easiest class I have, so I take full advantage of it this morning. I decide to follow Mama's advice and write down this morning's dream. That's my second dream about a fight this week, both involving Misty. My nerves are shot, so I decide to write KJ a letter asking him to talk to Trecee for me. I even fold it into the shape of a shirt—his favorite letter shape—just to get in on his good side:

I'll deliver it to his second period class on the way to mine. I hope he writes back by break.

 

Where is this boy? He's usually not this late, but he would be on the day I need to see him. I can't be late to Mrs. McDonnell's class. English is my favorite subject, and I don't want Mrs. McDonnell marking me tardy. I had her last year too so I know if I'm late she'll give me a look like she's been stabbed by her best friend. Then she'll say something like “to be late for one's own party is to miss the ball”—I don't really know what that means, but that's why I don't want to be late.

When she says something like that, probably some old quote she memorized in college, it'll be on your conscious all day because she's so cool about it. She says something weird like that and then just continues teaching. She never goes on long disciplinary tangents that make you mad. Yeah, she's good at the guilt trips.

“What's up, Jayd? Waiting for someone?” And finally, here's KJ—looking and smelling good as usual. That's why I can't get too close to this brother; reminds me of why I first fell in love with him.

“Oh, what's up, KJ? Here, I wrote this for your eyes only, all right? I gotta go, I don't want to be late for class. Please write me back by break. It's kind of urgent,” I say, starting to run off to class.

“Dang, Jayd, why you acting all serious and bothered? Is this about Trecee? Look . . .”

I have to cut him off or get the McDonnell tardy quote, but I am very interested in what he had to say.

“Look, KJ, I have to go, but I do want to hear what you have to say. Meet me outside my English class after second period, all right?”

KJ looks surprised I cut him off. That's his problem; he always thinks people should just listen to him, no matter what. “All right, Jayd. You always were a feisty one. I'll see you at break.”

As we go our separate ways, I think,
He better take care of this drama
. Oh dang, there goes the bell.

I make it to English just in time. She still gives me the look, but no quote. “Class, how are we all this morning? I'm just wonderful.”

Mrs. McDonnell must've had a morning cup of “joy” to get her off on the right foot. She's a tall White woman with bushy, curly, shoulder-length red hair. She's a tree-hugging, VW Bug-driving, moccasin–and–turquoise–wearing vegetarian, who's married to a Native American man, and has two daughters named Destiny and Karma. Strange, I know, but she's the best teacher I've ever met.

Mrs. McDonnell went to UCLA and then moved to Arizona to live on a reservation and study nature. What she ended up studying was her husband, John. He's fine. He picks her up every day after school in their beat-up VW. They've been married—and in love, she says—for fifteen years. I've never heard of that before—being “in love” for as long as you've been married. I know people who have been married for years, but I don't know that they've been in love the whole time.

Although I love her class, I ain't hearing Mrs. McDonnell this morning. All I can think about is KJ and the letter. I wonder what he'll say? I wonder if he'll remember his favorite letter shape? Why do I care so much?

 

It's break and I'm out here waiting for this brotha, like the old days. KJ was a sweet and very attentive boyfriend, not out of the goodness of his heart, but because he likes to be “seen.”

It was good for his status to be “seen” with me. As Misty says, “I'm a hard nut to crack, but everybody would like to take a shot at cracking me.” I take pride in that. OK, here he comes, strutting like a pimp checking on his honeys. Uh- huh. He's so cocky sometimes it gets on my nerves. But he does look fine.

“What's up, Jayd? I read your little letter and I ain't checking no boxes. Let's go somewhere and talk,” KJ says, handing me my note.

“Well, if you won't check the box, at least give me the answer to my question. Will you talk to Trecee for me or not?” Now, usually if KJ wants to say something he just says it in that sarcastic way of his and keeps on stepping. Well, not this time.

“Jayd, can we please go somewhere and talk about this? It's not as simple as you think. I can't just talk to Trecee. It's not that easy.”

There's a look on his face that's got me scared—why isn't it that easy? He can't really be in love with this crazy broad. Is he afraid of her? Oh no, not another Maisha situation.

“Are you scared of her, KJ? You're so weak. First, I had to deal with you leaving me for Maisha, now this. When will you learn not to mess with these crazy broads just because they'll give up the cookies to you?”

KJ's looking around all anxious trying to usher me toward the door. “Jayd, keep your voice down and you don't know what you're talking about.” KJ didn't just tell me that lie. If anybody knows about KJ's little indiscretions, if you will, it would be me. There's about to be a fight up in here, but it ain't gonna be between me and Trecee. It's going to be between me and this liar.

“Oh, so you didn't break up with me just because I wouldn't give it up?” I accuse, punching him as hard as I can in the arm. I've been waiting almost a week to have it out with him. Now's my chance.

“Tell me your sorry butt didn't break up with me because I wouldn't give you a taste, tell me it ain't true!” I say at the top of my lungs, still socking him. Students and teachers alike walk by staring at us, probably saying, “There goes another one of them out of control again.” But, I don't give a damn. He deserves to be hurt as much as he hurt me.

“Damn, Jayd, calm down. Jayd, chill and stop hitting me before you force me to hurt you. Can we please go somewhere and talk about this? Jayd, stop!”

Just then, this boy grabs my wrist to keep me from my attack, spins me around, and pulls me into his arms. Oh no, he didn't. Dang, he smells good. I did forget how strong he is. Uh-oh, I think I might like this a little too much. He walks me over to the private quad behind the teachers' lounge where we used to hang out. Just me, him, and the other popular couples who wanted to make out without people staring.

“KJ, can we go somewhere else to talk? This brings back too many bad memories for me,” I say, rolling my eyes and sucking my teeth. He's too good at playing with my emotions. Maybe Bryan was right.

“Jayd, is there a better place you can think of to talk privately? No, I didn't think so. So, will you please cut out all the drama so we can talk like two rational people.”

“Fine, KJ, let's start with why you can't—or won't—talk to Trecee for me. What's that all about?”

“Jayd, maybe you're right about me dealing with crazy broads just because they give it up. Trecee says she's pregnant and that I'm the daddy. She's pregnant, but I don't believe it's my baby. We used protection and everything. Now she's going around acting like it's my baby she's having and she's making my life crazy. Can you believe this mess?”

“No, KJ, I can't.”

I can't believe I was able to manage even those words. I could hardly make a sound. Trecee pregnant with KJ's baby? This can't be happening. If I know one thing about him, it's that KJ believes fiercely in protection, so obviously she's lying. Every time he would try to get in my panties, he always had a Trojan Magnum right by his side. But, what if she's not lying? What then? KJ is a senior on his way to one of the top colleges on a full basketball scholarship I'm sure. She ain't that stupid—and she knew what she was doing when she landed KJ in bed.

“So, you see, Jayd, it's not that simple. It's a whole lot of drama with this one. I don't know what to do. I thought about going to see your grandmother and get some guidance, some food, some something.”

I had to laugh at that. When KJ would invite me over to his house, Mama always made him a plate of food to go. Mama says there's all types of magic in food. KJ would offer me some as he led me through his house to sit on his swinging porch chairs in his parent's backyard. Usually, I'd take only a single bite before he'd systematically kill off every other drop of food on his plate. He loves Mama's cooking.

“I need some help, Jayd, and I don't know where to go. I can't tell my parents. If they find out, they'll flip. Oh, my dad would be so upset. And my mom would be very disappointed in me. And I know, this ain't all about me. I'm sorry she dragged you into this, Jayd.”

Now I do feel kind of sorry for him and I wish he had come to me a little bit sooner, like before the day of the fight. It's not like we can run home to Mama now. She may have known what to do had she had a little more information. Maybe that's what Mama meant when she said that it's not really my drama. But I still don't understand how I got in the middle of his mess.

“KJ, I feel for you and all, but I still don't know how, exactly how, I ended up a participant in your baby mama drama.”

“That's not funny, Jayd. This is a very serious situation. You ended up in it because I made the mistake of telling Trecee the truth,” he says, looking around the quad like a paranoid pothead. There's no one here now but us.