“Yes! And you should be too. Shae used to be a member of Piru Street gang and her man Tony still is, even though he don't look like it. They both got kicked out of Centennial for robbing a teacher. How they got here I just don't know, but we try not to mess with them and let them think they run South Central.”
“Well, Misty, I really don't give a damn about all that. Nobody runs me, and they and you can have South Central. I'm not into cliques and I don't let nobody punk me, not even some broad from Piru. If she wants to fight me, fine.
Bring it on. But it needs to be known from jump that I may be smart and I may not fit y'all's little image of what a girl from Compton is, but don't nobody talk mess to Jayd Jackson and get away with it.”
“I see that and hey, for the record, I agree with you. I'm glad you said something to that hoochie. I think you're the first, maybe the second girl to stand up to her. She goes on like that all the time. This girl named Mickey is the only other person I know who has stood up to her.”
“Where is she now? Don't tell me dead or crippled or something.”
“No, she's cool. She hangs out with this girl named Nellie. They're too good for us common Black folk, so they just kick it wherever, I guess. I really don't pay much attention to them. But the only reason Mickey got away with that is because her boyfriend is a member of a gang, and Tony didn't want no trouble with him over Shae's mouth.”
“Oh, so he can speak when he wants to.”
“Yeah, he can, but he don't talk much. He's a man of action, so I hear, not words. He leaves the mess talking to Shae.”
“Look, Misty, just like you said I don't know Shae like that, don't nobody up here know me like that.”
“Yeah, but you can't just be going around telling people off on your first day here, Jayd. You gotta let people feel you out first and you feel them out. It's better to be thought of as shy and quiet at first, and then come out with that ghetto attitude.”
“I thought that's what I did,” I say with an edge of sarcasm.
“No, Jayd. You didn't do that at all. Girl, you have to play the game if you're going to survive one day here. This is Drama High, no matter what it says on the front of the school. If you want to walk through here every day without getting into a fight or having people hate on you all year for no reason, you're going to have to come off that high horse you on and respect the rules of the game.”
But I've learned playing games always leads to more drama, which is why Misty is always in some mess. Boys like to play games too, although that's on a whole different level. Unfortunately, we all get dragged into a mess sometimes, especially when we think we're in love.
6
The Drama Begins
“They smile in your face All the time they want to take
your place, them backstabbers.”
â
THE O'JAYS
B
y the time I get my new schedule and get back to my locker, the hall is packed with students. Everybody's rushing all over, looking for their lockers, saying “Hi” to their friends, rolling their eyes at their enemies. Everybody's looking fly for their first day too, in whatever gear they got on. Even teachers are dressed up for their new students. And, everyone's running late.
As I close my locker door, quietly hoping I can get it open later without any help, I notice Trecee down the hall talking to this girl I don't know and pointing at me. She's in a powder blue sweat suit with a little navy blue tank top underneath, wearing her hair in gold-and-blue box braids to match her outfit, and big gold hoops hang from her ears. That's just Trecee's style: tacky. I'm wondering what she could want with me when she and her friend start walking toward me and I know I'll find out soon enough.
“Didn't you learn not to mess with other people's property?” she says, looking like she's about to punch me. Her friend stands behind Trecee in a way that says she's got her back.
“Who are you talking to?” I ask, hardening my expression and ready for the fight, though I have no idea whose property she's referring to.
“I'm talking to you and I know all about you and KJ,” Trecee says.
I can't believe she's stepping to me over some bullshit with KJ. I mean, first of all, I am already pissed and hurt because of our breakup, so I don't want too much to do with him now anyway. Second of all, he can't want her behind no way, especially not after dealing with a queen like myself. So, what she is trippin' over is really beyond me.
So, anyway, this broad wants to “warn me” that KJ is her man now, and I had better stay away from him. “WHATEVER!” is exactly what I say to her. She ain't got no clout with nobody, especially not with none of the people that I know.
You see, Trecee is one of them unnoticeable kinda girls. She knows just as well as everybody else that she ain't cute, she ain't smart, and sure enough she don't dress tight. But, unlike cute girls like me and my girls, she'll give up the cookies to just about anybody.
I mean, I'm still a virgin and I ain't thinking about giving up the cookies no time soon. Well, I almost did to Kalvinice, or KJ as he likes to be called, and you can see why. I mean, what the hell kind of name is Kalvinice? And then to name somebody that twice, 'cause yes, he's a junior. Anyway, that brotha had me sprung. I was in love with him and he dogged me good, real good.
KJ's the most popular Black cat at school. He's on the basketball team, and he's pretty good. He's cute and has mad gear, not all flashy and stuff. Just cool, just KJ. He lives in Compton, like the rest of us bused-in Black folk, and he has a car. As a junior, he applied to all of the big schools and scouts were constantly at the games watching him play. He and his best friend C Money had a lot of fun taking all the other cats on the court to “b-ball school.” Yeah, they schooled everybody they played with, just like Shaq and Kobe, or Iverson.
Anyway, one day right before the end of last year, KJ decided to tell my home girl, Misty, he liked me. Well, he actually said he wanted to know more about me and why I don't hang out in South Central. Misty, the little traitor that she is, told KJ I have identity issues, and that I'm all mixed up because I hang out with the White cats, the Puerto Rican cats, the Samoan cats, the Mexican cats, and anybody else I feel like hangin' with. Basically, Misty is the one with identity issues because yes, she's half Puerto Rican herself but tries to front like she's not. I don't see what the big deal is. She's such a hater.
But like I was saying, KJ was digging me, and I knew it, but I also knew he was dating this senior named Maisha, and she was known for being this tough broad who would whip anyone who crossed her, including KJ. So, I wasn't about to entertain the thought of talking to him, not then anyway. But it turned out he and I went to summer school together. He was taking some math classes and going to basketball camp. I was taking an extra A.P. English course I needed for the fall. Well, to make a not-so-long story even shorter, we started dating.
C Money and two other Compton brothas usually rode to school with KJ. Well, when KJ and I started dating, he would pick me up in the morning too. So, there we were, four brothas and me, rolling in KJ's little ride listening to Usher. I was in love.
I used to watch him ball, and he was just so very fine. He was sweet, cute, romantic, everything a first heartbreak is supposed to be, right? To top it all off, Mama even liked him, and his parents liked me. I thought I was in heaven.
Well, the hell started when Maisha came back from Loyola Marymount. Apparently, her tough self got kicked out of college for talking back to her coach one too many times. So, she came back to Compton and naturally wanted KJ back. At first, she said she wanted him back as a basketball partner 'cause she played too. Whatever. She can have him because I'm through.
Back to Trecee, who wants to jump me over this same punk. She's off her rocker. Straight-up crazy. Lunatic, over this fool. She wants me to understand that KJ is her man. I say fine, understood, but me being the smart-ass that I am I ask her, in front of everyone, if Maisha knows this or what. That pisses her off even more.
Well, it goes down like this: Trecee wants to fight me right here on the first day of school, in front of all these people and with me in my new clothes. She must be crazier than I think. I'm wondering what to do. But then I spot a mutual friend of ours, Jasonâan ex-con who's a little too old to be in the eleventh gradeâcoming down the main hall to stop Trecee before she even starts. He fights his way through the crowd that has gathered and grabs Trecee's arm.
“Let go of me, Jason. I need to teach this girl a lesson,” Trecee says, struggling with Jason's grip. Her friend tries to help Trecee break free, but Jason's too strong for them.
“Come on, Trecee. Let's get your ass calm before you go to class,” Jason says, leading Trecee back down the hall toward the courtyard.
“What the hell are you talking about, Trecee?” I yell to her back. “I ain't got no beef with you,” I say, trying to reason with her. Whatever her response is gets swallowed up by the space between us, but I think it's something like, “Don't think this is over, Jayd. We'll have it out about you and my man.”
My girls, Nellie and Mickey, are walking up the hall now.
They practically start running when they see me. The crowd of kids part to let them through.
“Hey, girl, what's going on?” Mickey asks.
“Nothing I can't handle,” I say, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. People are starting to lose interest and disperse anyway.
“Is everything all right?” Nellie asks.
“Yes, everything's fine. Thanks, Nellie. You got my sweater in that cute little Gucci bag? How are you going to fit your books in that?” I ask, smiling at her silly self, as she hands me my black sweater. Nellie is my home girl, and Mickey is her home girl, making her cool by association.
“Can you believe that crazy broad wants to fight me over KJ?” I say, watching Trecee pace the courtyard back and forth like an angry bull.
“KJ?” Mickey asks confused.
I report that KJ and I have broken up. Nellie and Mickey try to console me, but I'm tired of thinking about KJ.
“Well, I guess he's with Trecee now,” Nellie says.
I can't really respond to Nellie. I'm too busy trying to collect myself. Trecee caught me completely off guard. For a minute I almost went back to my hood days. Had this happened a couple years ago, I would've slapped her before she got her first earring off. But now I'm a changed sistah.
“So y'all ain't heard nothing about this? She didn't tell anybody about wanting to jump me on the first day?” Now, I don't believe this. Nobody in all of Compton knew anything about this broad wanting to fight me. No, I don't believe it.
Just then, Miss Traitor herself, Misty, walks up with a weird look on her face. “What's up, Jayd?” I knew right then she was the guilty party. She would never try to make conversation with me when I was with my girls. She would simply walk right by.
You see, me and Misty were real tight when I first came to South Bay High. There's mad history between us, even though it was only our first year. There was so much going on in both our lives and we just bonded, well, at least until she started trippin' over the summer.
We both were the new Black girls, with breasts too large for our frames. We even resembled each other in the face. In other words, she was cute too. But, there was something untrustworthy about Misty. I couldn't put my finger on it at first, but she was a trip, and I knew it from the get-go.
I have always had issues picking out best friends. I guess that's why I really don't have one now. Ever since I can remember, girls have had problems with me. For no reason at all some girls will just hate on me, and all I really wanted was to be accepted.
You see, I've always “stuck out” because of my larger-than-they-should-have-been breasts. They started to grow in elementary school and just never stopped. So, ever since junior high, dudes have been salivating over them, and me. This, of course, did not make me a favorite among the broads. I say broads because they were hating on me for something that was not under my control, and that's my definition of a sister-turned-broad, like Misty.
Misty hates me because she's jealous of the attention I get. Not from my breasts, but from my personality. She says I'm pushy and aggressive. Well, yes, I'm assertive and I don't take no crap, but that's not a reason for Misty or anyone else to hate me. For example, I just didn't let my oversized breasts stop me from being myself. Though I did get a breast reduction at the beginning of our sophomore year, that was no reason for Misty to trip. She basically said she felt betrayed. Yes, betrayed was this broad's exact wording. Like I had gotten rid of close personal friends of hers. The issues she has, I tell you. So, after the reduction, I became even more active in the Drama Club and dance, and developed a social life, which did not include Misty.
So ever since then, Misty has been trying to find sneaky, vindictive ways to be a part of my life, even if she plays the devil in it. Telling some stupid lie on me to Trecee would not be the firstâor lastâbroadish move of Misty's to hate on me. I know she's the guilty party in this whole mess. No need to prove it. She always reveals herself in time. Just like she did today.
“Hey y'all, what happened here? Did somebody get their butt beat down or what?”
“No, Misty, but I don't doubt that's what you wanted to see. How come you weren't on the bus this morning?” I ask.
“Oh, well, I got a ride this morning,” she says all nervous like she is lying to Judge Judy.
“From who?” I ask, 'cause I know her mama didn't bring her. Misty's mama, Maria, needs at least two drinks to get up in the morning, and the morning didn't start this early for her. She got demoted last year from full-time to part-time secretary because she could never make it before second period.
“Oh, um, Jason brought me to school.”
“Doesn't Trecee roll with him in the morning?” Nellie asks. We call her Ms. Cleo 'cause she knows the what, when, where, why, who, and how of all the dramaâand there is always plenty of it.
“If you rode with Jason and Trecee, why are you just getting here?” Mickey raises a good question.
“I had some other business to take care of. Jason can't give a sistah a ride sometimes? Damn, why y'all sweatin' me? I just came to say âwhat's up,' a first day friendly gesture, but never mind now.”
That broad was busted. I felt like beating Misty's lying behind right then and there, but I kept my cool. So that's how Jason knew to come stop the fight.
“Girls. Y'all always got some stuff going down,” Jason says, walking back in from the courtyard where he left Trecee to calm down. “Keep me out of this. I ain't giving nobody no more rides.” Jason walked away, looking pissed and slightly amused. Dudes love it when girls fight, just not when they get dragged into the middle of them.
Knowing Misty, this is only the beginning of the mess she's stirring up. She probably took the opportunity to tell every little made-up detail about me and KJ she could fester while she was in the car with Trecee. That broad can be creative when she wants to be. She needs to use that creativity of hers in English class and save all that drama she brings for Shakespeare.
You see, Misty ain't too smart when it comes to school. Or at least she doesn't apply herself. She is way too worried about being popular and in other folks' business than doing the right thing in class. She needs someone else's drama to feed from or her day is not complete.
“So, Misty, you mean to tell me the entire time you were riding with Jason and Trecee, you and she didn't talk at all?” I ask, trying to see if she would come clean.
“Look, Johnnie Cochran, I don't have to lie to you. I ain't on trial. Dang, Jayd, you always acting so suspicious of me. What have I ever done to you to make you like that?” she asks, trying to gain some sympathy from somewhere but not here.
“No you didn't just say that to me, in front of God and everybody else, Misty. What have you done to me? Oh, well let me tell you what you've done, starting with talking behind my back and backstabbing me every chance you get.”