A Girl Like Me

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Authors: Ni-Ni Simone

BOOK: A Girl Like Me
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A Girl Like Me
Also by Ni-Ni Simone

Shortie Like Mine

If I Was Your Girl

Published by Dafina Books

A Girl Like Me
Ni-Ni Simone

Kensington Publishing Corp.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

To my little cousins, Kristen and Korynn,
who respectively grew from Kissi and Chubba
to beautiful young women!

Acknowledgments

To my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, I thank You for Your grace and mercy and for Your multitude of blessings. I pray to be able to show the world through my writing that You are limitless.

To my parents and my husband for your love and support.

To my Taylor, Sydney, and Zion for bearing with me and my deadlines (LOL).

To everyone who has ever supported me and my career, I thank you for your love, support, and encouragement.

To my editors and publishing families, thanks for your support and for believing in my ability.

To the fans, thanks for continuing to support me. I am forever grateful for people like you!

And to all the little girls who dared to dream, I wrote this one especially for you! Be sure to email me at
[email protected]
.

Be Blessed,

Ni-Ni Simone!

SPIN IT…

Track 1

I
used to think I was the only one in the world like me and then I realized that there were a zillion mes…this is just my story. And this is how it all started….

I'd prayed for my boyfriend, but after a few years it was time to renegotiate. I wanted a new boo. Scratch that—I needed a new boo…and not any ole kinda boo, but a Hot Boy. Pants saggin' and timbs draggin'. A Lil Wayne or a Haneef type boo—one who—

“Elite,” my eight-year-old sister, Aniyah, interrupted me as she lifted her head from under the covers. “Can you tell God I want a boo, too? But I want a Patrick from SpongeBob type boo.”

And who said I was talking to this chick?

“Patrick?!” Aniyah's fraternal twin, Sydney, butted in. She peeked her head out from under the covers and said, “He keeps losin' his underwear.”

“Well, you shouldn't be lookin'!” Aniyah snapped, getting offended. “You're way too grown!”

Sydney moved her hand midway up her face. “You better talk to the hand, 'cause the face don't understand.”

“Oh, you got me twisted!”

“Alright!” I snapped, and they quickly retreated back under the covers.

I just wanted to put you down on this real quick: late at night, when the sun was setting and the moon was just right, I liked to pretend the ghetto twins didn't exist. It was a little difficult, though, considering we not only shared a room, but they also slept at the foot of my bed. Which is why I made them go to sleep at least an hour before me, so I could have time to think. Otherwise, when would I have found time to get my famous boo fantasy on? Crazy, right? But not to me. That's why I had been waiting for ten p.m.—I had an hour to go—to enter the radio contest sing for front row seats and a chance to be onstage with the hottest hip-hop and R & B sensation—Haneef!

Real talk, Haneef was putting Usher, Chris Brown, Bow Wow, and Omarion to sleep. Well…maybe not Chris Brown, 'cause he was kinda fly, but still—you got the point. Li'l Daddy was doin' it: six feet even, Hershey's milk chocolate skin, beautiful almond-shaped brown eyes, tight and tumbling muscles that went on into infinity, with a killah swagger like Jay-Z.

Haneef was that even-when-you-saw-it-you-still-didn't-believe-it type fine, and I was sure, every time he was on the radio, he was singing not only about me, but to me.

My best friend Naja thought I was crazy. Whatever. Cause I never said a word when she was drooling over Flavor Flav.

I looked at the clock—still a half hour to go. I decided to call Naja so we could practice what I was going to sing. As I reached for my boost mobile, it danced in my hand. It was Naja. Oh, did I mention she popped her gums before every sentence? “I've been staring at the clock,” she popped, “for five hours, and it's movin' slow as hell.”

“Are the batteries dying?”

“I think so, but the number on the left stays the same for like an hour. And I'm like ‘Okay, you wanna move yo' ass?'” Then she popped her gums again.

I never said she wasn't an airhead, I just said she was my best friend. Naja and I had been down like four flat since kindergarten.

I didn't even comment on the clock thing. “First of all, you better fall back from my baby daddy, Haneef,” I snapped. “You claimed Flavor Flav. Don't get it twisted.”

“Ill, I don't want him anymore, but I do think Bobby Brown is kinda cute.”

I made hurling motions with my neck. “I'ma throw up.”

“You better take something, 'cause if you throw up on the phone and it flies over here…then we gon' have a problem.”

Okay, maybe I'd missed something.
“Naja, how would it fly over there?”

“Duh,” she said as if I was the dumbest person on earth. “Think about it, Elite,” she snapped.

“Hmmm, I just did and you know what, I don't even think I wanna know.”

“The clock moved!” Naja yelled, excited. “It's ten!”

I screamed, “Okay, okay. What I'ma sing?”

“Sing,” Aniyah popped her head from under the cover again, “Whatcha whatcha know bout me…”

I balled up my fist and said, “If you don't shut your mouth…”

“Puleeze,” Sydney popped her eyes wide and rolled her neck. “She don't wanna sing that mess. She wanna sing, ‘Let me take you to bed, lead you to places you've never been.'”

“What in the—let me find out that you been singing that mess and see what happens to you,” I threatened. “Now don't let me see you pop up from the covers again.”

“I'm tired of being treated like a slave,” Sydney sighed.

“Be quiet!” I yelled.

“Come on,” Naja snapped. “We have to hurry up. We should sing a Whitney Houston throwback. Hit all the high notes.”

“Yeah, and get hung up on.”

“I can sing,” Naja said certain of herself. “I put Rihanna to sleep.”

“Wow, that's a hard thing to do,” I said sarcastically. “Look, we don't have time to argue. I'll sing, you just hum…softly.”

We called the station at least a hundred times before we were able to get through.

“Hot 102,” the DJ said. “You're on live! Who is this?”

“Ahhhhhh!!!!!!!!” Naja screamed in everybody's ear.

I swore that if we got hung up on, I was taking her drawstring weave and slinging her ass! “Would you shut up?!”

“Ladies,” the DJ said, getting our attention. “This is Hot 102, and you're live on the air…”

“Hey,” I said. “My name is Elite, and I'm from—”

“Brick City, in the house!” Naja cut me off. “I'm Naja, and I wanna give a shout out,” I heard her ruffling paper in the background, “to my mother at work right now, my god brother on lockdown, and to all the homies who ain't here—”

“Naja—”

“Wait,” she carried on, “and to Al-Terik, you know I'm through with you. Cause I saw you and big butt Belinda in the corner of the cafeteria—”

“Naja!”

“Dang girl, why you so rude? You know we got company on the phone.”

“We're supposed to be singing!”

“Okay, and what's the problem? Sing.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying my best not to sound as aggravated as I felt. “Sorry about that…uhm…I wrote a song that I would like to sing—”

“Elite, they don't wanna hear no poetry.”

I ignored her. “Okay, here goes. Do you want me to sing now?”

No answer.

I looked at the phone to make sure it was still on, and it was. “Hello?” My heart dropped in my chest.

No answer.

“Did they hang up?” Naja gasped.

“I think so.” I couldn't believe this. “Hello?”

“Girl, they're gone. Dang, why would they do that?”

I didn't even answer. I simply hung up on her, turned on my side, and placed the covers over my head. I'm not surprised it didn't work out. Besides, my mother was a crackhead, and I knew the furthest I was probably going to get in life was from one side of my tight ass bed to the other. Tears slid down my cheeks as I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

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